The Crooked Kind
by coeur-d'astronaute
Summary: After an accident on the job, Gail finds herself in a new town on course for a whole new life.
1. The Old and the New

_I see your face's in the clouds that scar the night._  
_And I pray to whoever is listening things'll be all right._

The sky was an ornery kind of grey. Deep and heavy and with clouds ready to be wrung out from the thickness of rain that saturated the sky dark, even at midday. Everything was grey, or so it felt. With the thick wool scarf that sat over the city, the buildings looked more imposing than normal. Not burning bright, on fire with the sun's rays, but instead cold and towering figures, calculating in their steel and glass facades, rigid and unforgiving, the thunderstorm settled atop them and made them shrivel like trees in the fall.

The heat from the imposing storm hung about, lacing the air with a heaviness that felt oddly fitting. As if a damp palm was continually pressing itself against every inch of skin, the mugginess of the summer storm filled the air with static, with an itchiness that made the inhabitants of the city restless and weary from overstimulation and daunting, dark atmosphere.

It hadn't stopped raining in six months, or so it felt to Gail. It rained on important days; it rained on sad days. Today was sad, though it was meant to be hopeful. Tugging on the strap that held a few boxes and suitcases to the top of her car, Gail adjusted the tarp and hoped it would hold for the six or so hour drive ahead of her. She paused only to curse the stagnant, imposing heat and wipe her forehead with her forearm.

For just a moment, with her car completely packed and the city quiet with the imminent storm, Gail leaned against the bumper and looked over head, taking in the buildings and their precise lines that obstructed views for more than a few blocks. A honk of a horn started a few blocks over. A streetcar kissed the steel grooves etched in lines across the city. A woman's grocery cart whined and bounced along the sidewalk.

When she turned her eyes back towards the townhouse, she sighed. Dark blue and accented in white, Gail remembered her brother's pride when he put up the 'Sold' sign and held his arms up, as if showing her paradise itself. She remembered his smile, wide and white and unending at the joy of having a place for him and his kids. It wasn't huge. But each kid got their own room, and he put a lot of work into making it theirs. And Gail had failed at keeping it.

The sign in the yard now burned bright in the overcast day. Big red 'For Sale' flared violently in the yard. Gail could almost see Steve tearing down the sign when he bought it.

"Got everything?" her father moseyed out into the yard. He was a quiet man, firm and precise and stoic in the face of it all. Gail remembered him when she was younger being silly and often goofy, reading in funny voices, making her learn things even when she protested. He was still like that with his grandkids, and it was nice to see that reemerge sometimes.

"I think so," Gail stood up and wiped her hands on her thighs to get the nonexistent dirt from them.

"There's furniture there already," he said, kicking the dirt a bit with the toe of his shoe. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"I'll be okay, Dad," she tried. He looked at her through dark grey eyes.

"Your mother called the Sheriff out there, so he will be expecting you within the week. The paperwork is all taken care of," he prattled on, trying to cross of advice from his mental list. "Unless you want to stay. We would love for you to move in. We have room."

"I can't do it to them," Gail said. "You know that, Dad. They need... something. They need newness. They need to start over. I can't... I can't be here either. I can't... work there."

"I know it's for the best," he exhaled. They both stood, facing the house, unable to say anything else. Between them sat a ghost that neither could help the other conquer, though they shared it equally. "You'll call if we need anything, right?"

"Yeah," she managed.

With a heavy heart, the father slipped his arm around his daughter's shoulder. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. It was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the daughter as something difficult for him to do. Never excessively touchy-feely, or overly expressive as a parent, the gesture was important; perhaps the most important that he could ever give her.

Beneath the concrete-like sky of mortared clouds and the beginnings of a heavy rainfall, Gail twisted slightly and put her arm around her father's midsection. She squeezed lightly and felt a familiar twisting and tightening at the base of her throat. The father, eyes heavy like the clouds, closed them for relief in an effort to remember this moment with his daughter, in an effort to pray for her in anyway he could think. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, and those same words were buried in the roof of his mouth, clinging like tar and unable to be pried off with his tongue. Bulky and shy the words were suffocated by her tightening throat. Instead she closed her eyes as well and inhaled the familiar cologne that clung to his clothes, the particular aftershave he used, the summer storm and static in the air.

"Do you have full tank?" he asked, as they slipped apart. It was slow and uncomfortable when they both realized what had happened.

"Yeah, I think," Gail swallowed and rasped. As she looked away from him and scolded herself for already forgetting that comforting smell, she wiped her eye and cleared her throat.

"Here," the father reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet.

"Come on, Dad," she shook her head in protest.

"For snacks," he shrugged, pulling out all of the bills. "For emergencies, I don't know. For whatever, here's a bit extra. Get them an ice cream on Pap."

"You already do too much."

"They're my grandkids, and you're my daughter," he insisted, shoving the money awkwardly into her hands.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

It was a banging on her door that woke her. Perhaps woke is a generous word. It was a loud pounding on her door that made her realize she was alive despite the copious amount of tequila in her system and being added to on a regular schedule.

"Hold on," she shouted and vaguely slurred, knocking over cups and a side table as she scurried over the couch. She slipped on her floor but had to stop the outrageous noises coming from behind the door. "Oh, it's you," she slumped slightly as the door opened.

"You haven't answered your phone," Nick followed as Gail slunk back towards the floor in front of the couch. Slowly the cop surveyed the apartment, much messier than normal, there was an ample supply of near empty liquor bottles and take out boxes. Music started again as he moved towards the couch.

"I lost it I think," the drunk blonde murmured, sifting through an old shoe box of cassettes. "I don't know."

"I've been trying to check on you," he tried, lifting a bottle and swirling what was left in it before setting it down.

"I'm fine," she explained, pressing fast forward on the small cassette player.

"You're drunk," Nick observed, sitting on the couch and leaning towards her on the edge.

Clad in old sweats and a large baseball jersey that had been her brother's from high school, Gail ignored him and smiled as familiar notes came out of the small, warped speaker. Nick sighed and ran his hand along his jaw. It'd been nearly a week since the accident. It'd been nearly three days since anyone had seen or heard from Gail. With the approaching funeral, it had somehow fallen to him to get her there. It seemed an impossible feat.

"_Bend it, bend it, just a little more_," Gail sang and bobbed her head as the beat increased. "_Without you baby, I'm so insecure. But you can make me feel that I am sure!_" Her hair was waving as her hands conducted slightly. "You know this song?" she asked, looking up at her worried friend. With a slight move she sat up a bit and reached for a bottle of bourbon. "Steve loved this band. We spent hours waiting to hear it on the radio."

"It sounds nice," Nick observed.

"This is the best part," Gail held her hand up for him to be quiet. "_Jigsaw puzzle, what's the hustle?_" she slurred with a smile, moving her shoulders, moving her waist, moving her head all over. "_Bend it, bend it, just a little bit_."

"Gail," Nick tried.

"I have other songs too. I've been listening to these tapes," she held up a case for him to see the handwritten songs. "Me and Steve made them when we were kids. We made like a hundred. And you know what? I remember every second of recording them."

"That's impressive," he smiled, holding it as if it were gold. Gail watched it in his hands and nodded before digging through the case again.

"I want to listen to all of them," she said, distant and lost in her shoebox.

"Gail, you have to go to the funeral tomorrow," Nick reminded her gently.

"I don't want to go to that," she shook her head. "I don't have to go to that."

"He's your brother," Nick said. He watched her eyes, red rimmed and blood shot. She ran her wrist under her nose and shook her head to make him stop talking. "Gail, it is your brother's funeral. You have to go. He died. You have to make peace-"

"Shh," she held her hand up and closed her eyes. He watched her smile slightly and tilt her head to listen to the next song. "This was his favourite. Just listen. It's... Steve said it was better poetry than Shakespeare."

"You can't sit here and hide in these-"

"_Got a home on high_," she smiled and tasted the words. "_Ain't nothing but a stranger in this world. I got a home on high. In another land. So far away_," she whispered. Her brow furrowed as it repeated, again and again, the voice on the tape growing softer and softer. "_So far away. So far away. So far away_," she repeated like a mantra. Nick watched a fat, alligator tear drip down her cheek and fall from her chin.

"Hey," Nick slipped to the floor. Gail's shoulder's collapsed and broke under the heavy sobs. "It's okay," he shielded her and hugged her tightly.

"No," Gail protested, pushing at him. He let her hit at him. He let her pound at his chest until she gripped it and held at his shirt and was too weak and drunk and angry to do anything else.

"It's not your fault," he explained, keeping her still. "You did everything that you could. But your parents, they need you. Your niece and nephew, they need you."

"I can't... do... anything," she struggled. "I'm drunk. My brother is dead. What else?" she stuttered and shook her head. "What else, Nick?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"I can't sleep. I see him," she was wide eyed. She was far away. "I see his blood. I see his eyes. I see his smile. I see him. Everywhere. I see him everywhere, Nick."

"I know," he nodded seriously. "You know when I was overseas, we had some... we came into some rough patches. You see them, for a bit, after it happens. And then you don't. It just happens. You hide behind duty and you just... do it, every day. I can't explain it."

"My brother," she said, staring right at him finally. "My brother."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"They want to put him in the ground tomorrow," she remembered. He'd never seen her look so childlike, so terrified. Maybe she never would, maybe this was it. Maybe there wasn't any coming back from this moment. "He has two kids. He... he's my best friend. They took him. They took him."

"Yeah," he nodded again.

"I can't do it," she shook her head. "My mom, my dad. They... they'll look at me."

"Yeah," he swallowed as she let go of him and looked away.

"I'm just going to sit here and drink," she decided, picking through her tapes once again. "Oh! And listening to this! You know this one?" Nick shook his head at the unfamiliar riff. "_Spanish bombs, yo te queiro infinito. Yo te acuerda. Oh mi corazón!_" Gail stood and grabbed another bottle after tossing that one across the room. "The Clash, Nick. Christ, how can you not know the Clash?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, unable to keep up with her. Where his mission had at first been reconnaissance, it had now turned to management, and he decided the best thing to do was to let her tire herself out and call in reinforcements for the morning.

"We should dance," she decided, grooving slightly. "We should dance. That's all. That's all."

"Alright."

* * *

"Auntie Gail!" a tiny voice yelled and sprinted quickly at the black-clad blonde. Gail groaned and winced as the noises ricocheted around in her head between her ears. Her hangover was at an all time level of terrible. "Auntie Gail. I miss you."

"Hi, babycakes," Gail swallowed her sick. Her mouth seemed to be stained a type of liquor hybrid that made her even more sick to her stomach. In a swift move she swung the little girl up into a hug. "How's my girl?"

"I'm sad today," she explained, playing with Gail's necklace. Gail was distracted by her eyes. For a little girl they were powerful things. They were big and blue and made her feel like a three year old understood too much.

"Me too," the aunt smiled a sad smile. She ran her finger along her niece's soft cheek. Her messy brown hair was nearly tamed today, tied up in a pony tail with a black scrunchie. She had her mother's hair. She had Steve's eyes and chin.

"Grandma said you weren't feeling good," the little girl worried.

"I'm a bit better," Gail lied. "I'm sorry I haven't been around, Charlie. I needed a good Charlie hug. I feel much better."

Sitting in a chair on the edge of the wake, Gail and her three year old niece sat quietly. People milled about after the funeral. Gail hid in the corner, afraid of sympathy and questions and pity. Her mother ran about, shaking hands and accepting condolences. Gail was so hungover she was positive she was still drunk just a few hours ago. It did help that a curly, frizzy head of brunette hair rested on her chest and continued to play with her necklace. It helped a lot with the entirety of the day. It helped her make her feel like she wasn't disappearing.

"I miss Daddy," Charlie sighed.

"Yeah, me too," Gail agreed. She ran her hand along Charlie's temple. "Where's your brother?"

"He won't leave Dad's old room," the little girl explained.

"What do you say we go check on him?" A nod was enough. Fighting against her need to vomit and to make her head stop spinning, Gail lifted the girl on her hip and did her best to sneak out of the room towards the stairs.

The walls of her childhood home were filled with pictures of her and her brother. The family portrait was rare. A few from graduations, a few from events, but other than that, it was simply baseball games and soccer practice, it was summer camp and christmas mornings. Her parents hadn't done anything different with their rooms when they moved out.

"Hey, bud," Gail knocked lightly and pressed the door, covered in band stickers as it was, in slightly.

"Max, I found Aunt Gail," Charlie squirmed on her aunt's hip.

"So?" the little boy shrugged and turned over on the bed.

For a moment, Gail had to agree with him. It wasn't much of a victory to find her. It certainly wasn't a prime state she had been found in, even. His point was valid that it didn't matter at all, and she wasn't the person he wanted to walk into the room at that moment.

"I haven't seen you out, Max, I wanted to see how you were," Gail offered. Slowly she moved around the room. Trophies were stacked on the bookshelves. Pictures were tucked in corkboard edges. An ancient computer sat on a desk that was littered with old magazines.

"I'm fine," the heap on the bed said.

"Yeah, I did the same thing you did," Gail nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Charlie dug through the closet on her own. She had the urge to push her hair through Max's light red hair. It was dusty and nearly a light brown, but it had the same cowlick as his father. "Just laid around for a bit."

"They won't let me go to school," he complained. "I just want to go to school."

"Well, you can make up your work, I'm sure. Second grade usually isn't so stringent."

"I just want to be out of here," he sighed. His suit was crumpled. Gail could see that he had pulled on the tie.

"Well... Grandma will stay at your house."

"You're the one Dad said would take care of us," Max sat up a bit. He was angry and accusatory and confused. "So can I go to school?"

His words made Gail's mouth go dry. She felt her spine straighten.

"We... we have to wait and see," Gail smiled a little.

"You don't even know," he accused.

"Yeah, I know," Gail agreed. "But we'll figure it out. I promise."

She found herself stretched out on the bed. Max laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, Charlie climbed into Gail's lap. The noise from downstairs continued and the three simply sat in the room of the person who mattered most to them in the world. It was comforting and as close to having the real thing that they could think of having anymore.

They were quiet and they talked about little things, and inevitably, Gail's hangover left. She couldn't get rid of it completely. But this was the place she needed to be, and she vaguely understood what Nick spoke of when he spoke of duty.

* * *

The rain came down in buckets. The clouds seemed to sink and dissipate and slither across the tops of the trees like a sad, lonely blanket. The wipers flung water across the windshield in a violent rage while the road stretched out until it was blurred into a water-coloured smear in the distance. While the storm had lost its bluster as she drove north, the rain didn't seem to want to stop, and instead elected to throw itself down in large, globby drops that exploded in soft plops on every surface, turning the roof of the car into a jittery tambourine.

"You guys excited?" Gail asked, looking in the back seat at the two heads in the rearview mirror. Neither gave her much reaction. "There's a lot of rain, but that's a good thing because the river will be high and we can go floating down it. And the lake in back should be high and good for fishing. I think we have poles somewhere in the basement."

Her words did nothing to get a reaction. Max leaned his head against the window and looked about as sad as he had for the past six months at any given moment. Charlie was in her own world in her high chair, playing with an old stuffed kangaroo.

"Hey Max, did you know that there's a field where we can play ball? And we won't even hit any houses," she changed tactics as she peered through the rain and zoomed along the back roads. "We can mow it down and it's not a professional sized field, but still, it is so much room."

"Okay," he shrugged.

"Listen, I think this will be good," Gail tried. "A new town, the cabin is good, a change of scenery, some fresh air. I mean, it's old and dusty, but it can be a nice house. Tons of room. And the schools are good. There isn't traffic. My hours will be better. I mean, that sounds good right? We can get on a good schedule. I can learn to cook, right?" There was still no answer. Gail came to a stop at the single light before reaching the town.

The trees and the road all looked familiar, though she hadn't made the trek to the family vacation cabin for many, many years. Though there was no other traffic, Gail stayed stopped at the red light while the wipers squeaked along. The kids were still quiet and she was still at a loss. She had to keep speaking so she could convince herself that she was doing the right thing. She had to convince herself that changing in the scenery of downtown and her own city to the forest and a cabin was the right choice, that selling the house she couldn't afford was the right thing, that taking the kids from their home after the death of their father was a good idea. That she was twenty-four and the owner of two kids and had no idea how to do it at all, but this was a good choice. It had to be.

"You guys, listen, I need to talk to you about something important," she decided. "I don't know what I'm doing. I think we need to be a team. Can we be a team? Can we do... this? Whatever this is? Together?" She hadn't meant for the words to sound so uncertain, but she needed to signal a shift. "I know things haven't been going so smoothly. I've been busy and trying to figure things out because it is very complicated. But you need to know that you are both the most important people in my life now, and I will do anything, okay? You just have to talk to me, and I will talk to you. No lies. No treating you like kids. From now on, we're partners."

"Partners," Charlie agreed, repeating her word. Gail smiled and was certain that the little girl had no idea what was happening.

"Max?"

"Are we there yet?" the kid complained.

"Nearly," Gail decided, turning back to the light. She snuck looks in the rearview mirror. She could see Steve and herself as kids on the way up to the cabin for the summer. It was heartbreaking.

Gail gave up trying to explain her actions. She wanted to get there already. When the light finally changed, she started off again through Main Street. She passed familiar storefronts and a diner and a few other newer additions. She followed the old Creek Road out of town and she wove through the trees as the rain started to fade. The mist rose of the mountain and tried to rejoin the clouds.

She missed the drive way the first time around and she had to turn about in a field, much to the enjoyment of the the kids in the back. She was even certain she saw Max crack a smile. The evening was settling in when the tires started to crunch down the overgrown gravel path. The mailbox hung by a thread, unable to support itself after lacking proper care for years.

"Okay, guys, here it comes," Gail promised. "Our new place."

It appeared through the tree line, magic and big and a little more run down than Gail could remember from her childhood. The red roof was bright and the boards of the siding needed painted, as it peeled, white and chipped from summers and winters.

Gail parked the car with a triumphant flourish.

"What do you think? Are we ready?" she turned around and asked.

She received unsure looks, and turning back to the home before her, she too felt the same way. But this was all she could do.


	2. The Penguin and the Kangaroo

_We're all still a part of everything that we were,_  
_And we'll all float along with everything,_  
_And in turn, we'll all fall apart with everything._  
_But we'll learn just what things are like outside our heads._

It was only mid June, but the mornings were already sticky and a lazy kind of loud that echoed in the forest like a quiet whisper only can. Cicada hums broke up the dawn, as if ushered in by the crack that was almost audible over the mountains far to the east. Gail leaned against the freshly painted railing of the deck and surveyed the still, placid water that stretched out into the forest for a good mile. Far across the water, a new house had been built, like a speck of dust between the trees. It didn't belong, but then again, her own house did the same interruption to the natural backdrop of the land. Sweat started to want to form on her neck, so she ran her forearm against her forehead and let her palm hold her head.

Morning was the perfect time. An entire expanse of the day loomed just like the oppressive early heat that burned a layer of the lake away like a steam. The day stood there, at the cusp of morning, at the break of dawn, waiting to be made into something. Unshaped and pliable, it only grew more firm and less moldable as the hours moved forward to the quiet collapse of dusk. Gail didn't know where to start, most of the time, though she had to figure it out as she went.

In morning though, she allowed herself to reside in the early hours that were almost frozen and detached from reality. Fish bobbed at bugs on the water's surface, breaking the mirror-like calm on the chop-less lake. The sun was a different tint, filtered through the eyelash-like ridge of trees atop the mountains, nearly green and gold and casting these hours in a hue that felt like being petrified in amber. Gail imagined it almost like syrup, the air thick with the heat coming in and the yawning of the earth. Dirt kicked up as animals awoke. Owls calmed their midnight vigils, ducks skimmed along the lakeshore, looking for breakfast, and the cicadas cleared their throats like an acapella group, ready to protest the hot sun of summer. When she was just a child, she always assumed that the summer sun just made that sound, that it was the one whining through the trees and grass. It was disappointing to learn about the insects responsible.

Instead, Gail attempted to suspend belief, even as an adult. It was easier when she didn't sleep that well or often and her drowsy brain was susceptible to fall under the spell of waning twilight and emerging dawn. It wasn't that she was not tired enough at night, because she was, she observed, stretching her arms above her head to relieve the soreness sinking into her position. Her muscles ached from deep cleaning the old family lake house, from moving heavy furniture, from throwing Max around in the water and lifting Charlie up to pick pinecones from branches, from beating old blankets and hanging clothes on the line, from the burn she got when they plotted out how to plant a garden, from painting the walls and sweeping the floors and repairing the upstairs deck outside of her room, the master, and the back screen around the other below her. Her body hurt from being alive for the past week and trying to keep the kids excited and ready to move on. But her shoulders also hurt from rubbing Charlie's back until she fell asleep because she was an uneasy sleeper and asked for her daddy, and her knuckles were raw from helping Max stack his books in a precise order and her arms still vibrated with pounding nails into the wall to hang up pictures of Steve in their rooms.

Gail's body hurt, plain and simple, but she suspended it in the morning. This was the time of day she was capable of doing it. As the trees shook and stretched in the slight breeze, waving it along to fan away some heat like southern belles, as the rocks shone on the shore from the tide receding, as the kids slept, oblivious and happy for a while in their rooms, as June sat atop their chests like a stubborn guest, breathing hot against their skin, Gail didn't think about her shoebox of cassettes and playing them all, nor did she think about cleaning the basement or attic or laundry or what to make for dinner. Instead, Steve wasn't dead, and they were sixteen and sneaking back in from riding dirt bikes near the old train tracks.

With another twist of her hips to crack her spine like the sun, Gail gave a final look to the lake and the trees and saw it different now, saw it in the daylight, suddenly very much part of the day and no longer frozen as the sun rose quickly and unabashedly, vibrant and alive and reminding her that she was no longer sixteen, and this summer was different.

As she stepped back into her room and the A/C greeted her in a chilly hug, her skin, slightly slick with dew-like sweat, rejoiced that her father had given in to her mother's demand for central air when they were just kids. As she jiggled the door shut behind her, she made a note to fix it at some point, along with a million other things, such as call the plumber and cable and phone companies and find those old fishing poles. Listening to the quiet of the house, she elected to shower before starting breakfast and therefore waking the kids to start there day.

When the water met her naked skin, Gail cringed as her slight burn tingled and yelped in timid relief. She stretched a bit more and tried to crack her neck as she lathered and rinsed and thought; always thought, constantly thought, was plagued by thoughts in the quiet. She had promised to take the kids shopping. She had promised her father not to go too overboard with his credit card, but the list of things they needed grew and grew and grew. New sheets, new books, new furniture for the kid's rooms, a new television, and basically anything updated at all. Mostly, she was just excited for a day away from the house, and a day in the city a few towns over with actual shops as opposed to the singular shops in town here. They'd become frequent guests of the hardware and grocery stores, making multiple trips per day to live. Picking out paint with the kids was like pulling teeth.

Gail dressed in the master. She was hesitant to call it her bedroom, still. Her room had been Charlie's. Her parents had lived in here, with their own bathroom, while she shared with Steve. Her parents had the big bed and the rafters from the roof in the high ceiling. Her parents had the balcony where she heard them talking as if they were still in love some nights, like teenagers, happy and hopeful and at ease with each other. She hadn't understood it then, and she still couldn't. But now it was hers. Her clothes were in the dressers, her stuff was in the small closet, her pictures hung on the walls and she had picked the paint and she would pick a new comforter. It was her room, and she was struggling to accept what it meant to occupy the master bedroom.

Making her way down the hall, she softly pushed open Charlie's door to find the little girl sleeping still, huddled with her stuffed kangaroo tucked under her chin and messy hair in her face and strewn across the pillows. Quietly, Gail picked out some clothes and left them on the tiny desk there for when she woke up. Nearly four and stubborn, Charlie was trying to be a big girl, though picking out a semi-appropriate outfit was still beyond her. Across the hall, Gail knocked softly on Max's door, still with his father's band stickers stuck on it. The little boy with the auburn hair slept with a book tucked under his face he must have fallen asleep reading. The light on his desk was still on, and Gail made a note to be stricter about bedtimes. Again, she set out clothes, stealth and all, before making her way downstairs to officially start the day.

Her routine had been identical nearly every morning for the past week that they'd lived there. She straightened up the living room, putting games and books back in the den, she did any dishes, threw in a load of laundry, and she put on the news in the small, ancient television to see the weather, eventually turning it off and opting instead to push play on the old radio she kept in the kitchen and started to brew herself coffee while getting out whatever was around to make breakfast. It was a simple and efficient schedule she tried to keep.

Like clockwork, she heard tiny legs on the steps as she chopped a couple strawberries.

"Hi," Charlie's morning voice was Gail's favourite.

"Hi, lovebug," Gail smiled. Charlie hid behind her wrist rubbing her eyes and a yawn. Her shirt was on backwards and her socks were in various states of on, but Gail didn't mind. It was close and she'd fix it soon enough. "Want some pancakes?" a slight nod. "Alright, climb on up," the aunt pointed at the chair at the counter. "Did you sleep good?"

"Yeah," Charlie nodded, squirming into her seat. "Real good."

"How is Arnold this morning?" Gail asked, watching the little girl adjust the stuffed animal.

"He good. He hungry," Charlie explained.

"Alright, well," Gail flipped a pancake in the skillet before picking up a plate. "I have this for you," she slid it across the counter to Charlie. "And this for Arnold," she explained, sitting a smaller plate with a small pancake on it. "Strawberries?"

"Just me," Charlie watched Gail spoon. "Arnold allergic."

"Okay then," Gail chuckled.

She made Max a plate when he came down as well, repeating her questions. While they ate and forks scraped, Gail tried to clean up her mess. It was added to by their plates as they retreated to the downstairs which had become their playroom of sorts, now that it was cleared of old gear and boxes that Gail didn't need.

"Fifteen minutes and then we're heading out, okay?" she called after them as she picked up their plates before wiping the counter. "Don't make a mess."

They were gone before they heard, most likely, but Gail went about finishing up and trying to make a list in the seats they vacated. The knocking she heard paused after a while. She stopped writing to listen to the quiet, attempting to determine if it was the kids or the door. But she gave up and returned to her list until there was a loud knock behind her that made her jump.

When she pushed aside the small curtain, she peered through the window of the door and found a vaguely familiar face there. Her hands couldn't move fast enough to unlatch it.

"Seriously?" she smiled, flinging the door open while attempting to look angry. "It took you an entire week to stop?"

"I didn't believe it," the tall, dopily grinning man chuckled. "I guess it's true then."

"A whole week," Gail repeated, staring at him as he fidgeted in the heat. "Seven days, Chris," she moved only to punch him in the bicep. "You jerk."

"I'm sorry!" he apologized, rubbing his arm. "I've been working and I just... what am I supposed to say?"

Before he could finish, Gail threw her arms around his neck. It caught him off guard, but after a few seconds, his arms slithered around her and he closed his eyes to hug her back. Steve's best friend in the summer, Chris spent years growing up with the Peck kids on their vacations. He somehow knew the very day they were arriving, and would be greeting them on the doorstep before the car was in park. Gail always wondered if he just came every day when school got out, like a puppy. It was fitting. He'd been Steve's right hand, his partner in crime; he'd been Gail's first kiss and summer love from time to time. Even as they grew up, he made a trip or two per year into the city, when him and Steve would get blind drunk and cause havoc on a different level. Gail could almost understand his inability to come around. She didn't know what to say either, and she couldn't stomach any attempts.

Instead, she punched and hugged him and dug her nose into the same shoulder she punched, inhaling his certain cologne that never changed, and the familiar smell of Chris, all woods and dirt and earth and summer seeping from his skin. It was familiar and safe and took her back.

"You should have come by sooner," she admonished, pulling away slightly.

"I couldn't," he shrugged, unable to look at her. Gail pursed her lips and retreated from his hold, inviting him in with a nudge of her head. "I like what you've done with it," Chris offered. Gail could see the sweat forming on his dark paramedic shirt. His radio hissed a bit before he turned it off completely. "Everything looks really nice."

"You came to see what I've painted?" she asked, watching him look around, his boots echoing with each step like a dull thumping heartbeat through the boards.

"I came to see if I can help in any way," he turned back to her. He had teddybear eyes, the kind that were sweet and thick and warm. "And to tell you how sorr-"

"Don't," Gail shook her head, wary and tired of that conversation. "I hate hearing it."

"I should have come to the funeral," he shook his head, leaning against the back of the stools by the counter. "I just... I couldn't... I loved him, you know?" he swallowed and Gail saw pain in his eyes, a foreign feeling in such a sweet and innocent person.

"I did, too," she shook her head, bracing her hands and ducking her head to look at her bare feet on the old wood floor. Chris might have been the closest thing to a brother that Gail had left now. He might have been the only person who understood who she was now; a brotherless sister, someone missing something and someone innate to their very definition. But he couldn't possible get it. Not really. Not exactly.

"I missed you," Chris offered, weak smile in place. He had grown up tall and full and man, so that the awkward teenager with foal-like knees and wobbly teeth was now a man, a real grown up man, with Adam's apple and scruff and full, thick hands. Gail observed his growth and wondered if she ever knew he'd grow up and stop being the awkward summer crush she had once upon a time. She'd wanted him to stay like that forever, as a memory, as something untouched by each morning growing into a day.

"Why wouldn't you?" she smiled, trying not to hold onto her anger at him not showing to the funeral. She wouldn't have gone either if she could have avoided it with distance, too. "I'm awesome."

"You're here for good then?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so," she nodded, licking her lips and sighing at the thought of it.

"Aunt Gail, Charlie won't stop touching my Lego's," Max stomped into the room, indignant and scornful. The pattering of feet up the stairs behind him was followed by a protest of 'nu-uh.'

"I'm sorry, bud," Gail said. "But you should clean them up and get your shoes on anyway."

"Who are you?" the kid asked, still indignant and scornful. He held whatever he was building in his hands and stared at the paramedic in their kitchen.

"Is this...?" Chris stared at Max, nearly unable to look back at Gail, as he was so captivated by the mini-Steve before him, it was like time traveling to see a ghost.

"Max, Charlie," Gail said, resting her hand on the little girl that hid behind her legs. "This is Chris. He was a really good friend for me and your dad when we were kids in the summer. He came by to see how we were doing."

"You look just like your dad," Chris knelt down to Max's level. "Did you know that?" Max held his Lego's a bit tighter and nodded. Gail could see the confusion and anger and almost hurt on his face. "The last time I saw you, you were a baby."

"I don't remember you," Max cocked his head, staring at Chris, deep and hard.

"But I do," Chris smiled. "Your dad named you after Max McLaughlin, the greatest shortstop to ever play the game. Steve was obsessed with him, remember?" he asked Gail. "Do you play?"

"Yeah," Max agreed. "I brought my mitt and everything. I'm getting a baseball room."

"Really cool, man," Chris agreed. "And that is your sister?"

"Yeah, that's Charlie," Max explained.

"She's shy," Gail offered as the little girl peaked out slightly and hid again.

"That's okay," Chris shrugged. "I'm kind of ugly anyway, so I get it." Charlie giggled but stayed hidden. "I can't believe... I didn't think. I..." he said standing. "So this is you now?" he asked, looking at Gail. She knew he was referencing the children. She knew he meant living here, now. She smiled sadly and nodded. "I should get to work," he remembered, looking again at Max who stared up at him happily.

"Thanks for coming by," Gail offered. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Do you guys like pizza?" he asked the kids to a resounding yes. "Why don't you meet me at Tony's tonight for dinner. I'd love to get a chance to catch up."

"Yeah, alright," Gail agreed as Max begged.

"Awesome," Chris smiled. "I will see you guys later," he patted Max's shoulder and waved towards Charlie.

"Go get shoes on," Gail instructed the kids so she could say goodbye. They disappeared after a few moments. "I meant it when I said thanks for coming by."

"I think you meant the punch more," Chris smiled wryly. Gail acquiesced to that. "I am sorry, Gail. Steve was... he was..."

"Yeah," Gail nodded, frequently encountering the same problem of not being able to define what her brother had been because he wasn't yet a 'was' in her book, and it was hard to describe an 'is' that is constantly changing.

"I'll see you tonight, around seven?" Chris changed the subject once again as they danced around the large ghost in the room. Gail just nodded and held the door open for him.

"Sounds good," she agreed as he flipped his radio back on. With a smile and awkward wave, Chris descended the porch and let the screen door smack and reverberate in the morning.

Gail found herself staring out the door as his truck disappeared up the driveway, unsure of how glad she was to see him at all. He was oddly comforting yet reminded her of too much of her brother. It was a difficult balance and all she wanted was a good night sleep.

* * *

"What about this one?" Gail suggested, holding up a kitten stuffed animal. Charlie shook her head vehemently. Gail dropped her head and her shoulders sagged with the weight of it as she crawled around on the floor near the pile of neatly organized and precisely placed family of stuffed animals. She crawled on her hands and knees towards another promising prospect.

"Where's Arnold?"

Glassy grey eyes looked worriedly at Gail as her thumb went to her mouth. She didn't have an answer. She wondered why Steve hadn't written a book about this sort of thing; a guidebook to his kids. She spent time with them, but she never learned their idiosyncrasies. It should have been common sense that a beloved stuffed animal was unacceptable to misplace.

"I'm not sure. Tomorrow we will go back to where we bought the stuff for the house, remember the big store?" Gail crawled over to the edge of the bed. "We will go see if he is hiding there. And then we will check the pizza place. Chris said he would look, too."

"I need him," Charlie insisted.

"I know, lovebug," Gail sighed. "But the sooner you fall asleep, the sooner we can go look in the morning, alright?"

"I need him." The little girl's voice was rising.

"Charlie, honey, I'm sorry but I can't do anything right now."

It'd been a full day and Arnold could have been anywhere. They made plenty of stops and only recognized his absence when they returned home from a good time eating dinner with Chris and being introduced to a few more people. The kids loved Chris, they loved being out, they loved seeing where Gail was going to work and they loved meeting her fellow cops. Everyone at the station was kind. They understood that these kids were special. When a brother in arms goes down, his family is their family. They wouldn't want for anything. It was law.

"He's not downstairs," Max appeared in the door to his sister's bedroom. "I looked everywhere."

"Thanks, bud," Gail offered. "Do you remember seeing it at dinner?"

"No," he shook his head and surveyed Gail's pile of discarded applicants for the job of sleep buddy.

"Go hop in bed, and I'll be in, in a minute," the aunt smiled. Max offered Charlie a goodnight before disappearing, dismayed at being unable to make his sister feel better. His father had instilled in him an innate nurturing and protective instinct, especially when it came to Charlie. That was what a big brother did. Steve frequently referenced Gail when he explained to his son that big brothers, that good men, they sacrificed and they did everything they could to take care of their little sisters and their family. It was an unmistakable fact that stuck with Max.

"Arnold is always here," Charlie shook her head, bunching up her new sheets in her tiny hands.

"I know, love, but I guess he is visiting somewhere else and we will find him tomorrow," Gail tried.

That wasn't reassuring enough to an exhausted, cranky three year old, and the gasping and stuttering of sucked lips and sobbing lungs emerged. Her words were indecipherable though she tried to fight it and explain how she felt. Her tears did enough.

"We will find him, I promise," Gail tried, lifting the sheets a bit and tucking them around her. She tried to wipe the tears. "Here is... what is this guys name?" she asked, holding up a little penguin.

"Ph-ph-pha-Phoebe," Charlie stuttered, inhaling a staccato breath.

"Well that is a lovely name," Gail tried, leaning against the bed from her seat on the floor. She stared at the little stuffed animal. "What's that, Phoebe?" she tilted its beak towards her ear. "I know you're worried about Arnold. We all are," Gail nodded seriously. "I'm sure he is fine though. Kangaroos are pretty tough guys. And I'm pretty sure we'll go looking for him tomorrow. What was that?" she snuck a look at Charlie, cheeks stained from tears and her fit of worry. She was breathing still with sobs choked. "Hmm, yeah, ummhmm," Gail listened and debated with the stuffed animal. "I don't know, let me ask her. She's really picky."

With a slight turn, Gail leaned her chin on her hand on the bed. She gave Charlie a little smile.

"So Charlie, I know you're sad, but Phoebe is pretty sad too, and she was too shy to ask... but do you think you could sleep with her tonight, until we find Arnold? She said she misses him too much and doesn't want to cry."

Gail watched the little girl debate and wipe her cheek in her pillow before a small nod.

"Awesome," Gail cheered. "Let's get you tucked in then, Pheebs." Working carefully, she lifted the sheets and tucked the penguin close to Charlie. The little girl made no move to hug the animal, but she helped smooth the sheet slightly. "There," Gail surveyed her handiwork. It was her best try and Charlie wasn't falling for it as much as she'd hoped. "Get some sleep, okay lovebug?" she stood and leaned over the bed. She smoothed Charlie's hair and kissed her forehead. "We will search tomorrow." Charlie just nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she managed.

Gail left the small light on the desk on and only closed the door slightly because she knew she would be checking on her often before she went to bed herself. Even from behind the door now, she listened from the hallway as Charlie shifted around. She heard her whispering to the stuffed animal, though the crying and hiccups from tears continued. With a heavy heart and a failure in the column for today, Gail turned to Max's room and continued her tucking in duties.

"Hey, bud, what are you reading?" Gail leaned in the doorway as she watched him laying in his father's bed, stretched out much like she would find Steve on lazy summer days.

"_Stuart Little_," he said, looking up. "I found it downstairs. Is it okay?"

"Yeah, definitely. It's a good book," Gail tried to put him at ease. "How do you like your room?" she asked, surveying the decorations and furniture and sheets. "I think it looks pretty bad ass."

"We're not supposed to say that word," he reminded her.

"Right, well, it looks awesome," she corrected herself.

"Yeah, I like it," he agreed.

Okay, good. I wanted to tell you thanks for all of your help today and recently. You've been a huge boost and done really good. So thank you. Your dad would be super proud of you and how grown up you've been." Gail watched Max swallow at the mention of his dad.

"Do you think he knows that we are here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Gail nodded after thinking it over quite seriously. "I think he'd be happy that you guys are in a place he loved so much."

"We can still talk about him, right?"

"Anytime you want. Chris has a million stories for you. I can answer any questions. We can call Grandma and Grandpa whenever. Never be afraid to ask us anything about him, or tell me if you just want to talk about him. I miss him, too." Gail was trying not to cry. She wasn't supposed to cry. She had to be strong and make things okay, even though she wasn't sure how to do that.

"He would like my room," Max decided.

"Definitely," Gail smiled and ran her hand through his hair. "Alright, I'm going to come back up in an hour and I want your light to be off, okay?" she said. Max looked up at her and nodded. "I love you, Max."

"I love you, too," he smiled. She kissed his forehead and fretted over his sheets before making her way towards the door.

"One hour," she reminded him.

"I know, I know," he groaned.

"Goodnight, bud," she said, closing the door as well.

"Night Aunt Gail."

Left in the quiet of the hallway, Gail paused once more outside Charlie's room to still hear a bit of whispering. The hiccups were quieted and she prayed that the little girl would fall to sleep shortly. Come hell or high water, she realized, she had to find that stupid kangaroo.

* * *

Night on the lake was nothing like the day. Naturally, this went without saying, but it was different then being opposites. It was simply nothing like it. It sounded different, it tasted different, it felt different, and like the same views and windows held different meanings, allowed different things, hid different things. The crickets were happily singing to each other, not angry or bitter like the morning noises protesting the ridiculous temperatures. Instead, the breeze came off the water, wiping away the burn and boil from its surface and shivering its way through the trees. An owl mumbled to itself, letting the world know that it was dark out and time for things in the day to be asleep.

Gail adjusted her leg up on the railing as she sipped once more from her beer. She stared out from the back porch onto the lake just a few yards below. It licked the shore greedily, pushed against it by the skinny dipping moon. Through the trees, the night was not dark or even black, but a grey-hued brightness that seemed to glow from every direction.

With another small movement, she leaned back in her chair and flipped the tape in the radio on the chair behind her. A familiar riff started and she smiled as she returned to her relaxed position.

This moment was unlike her dawn. When her dawn was more like a tar pit that held her captive and wouldn't let her go, didn't allow her to move, kept her rooted and firmly detached from existing at all, the night was when she felt it all, moved too much, inherited the weight of the world and the day. She became laden and burdened with facts and the true nature of things she didn't allow herself to think of at dawn or throughout the day.

Her routine at night was similar to her morning rituals. She switched the laundry around, she put the dishes away, she straightened up whatever was lying about, and she somehow found herself staring out at the lake as if it she could find an answer to an unaskable question sitting there, spelled out in the ripples or clouds or night.

Tonight she thought about the day, and about Chris and how she remembered kissing him terribly under the bridge during the fireworks when they were just teenagers and didn't know what kissing was. She still saw the teenager in him, though something was different. He had his arm around his girlfriend while they waited for pizza and he commanded a room, he had a chest like a tree and he filled up the room with his confidence, though it wasn't arrogant. It was an unassuming, laid back magnetism that drew in the regulars to stop and say hello. It was nice to see him grow into his skin, though it made Gail painfully aware of how her skin was unrecognizable and she had no idea how to put it on, let alone live within it.

The crunch of gravel and a pair of bright headlights drowned out the light music that was nearly drowned out by the noises of the night itself. Gail let out a deep breath and looked over her shoulder at the door, as if it had instantly woken the kids and they were going to appear at the door. With her mother's gait, Gail opened the screen door slightly and let it rest over her hip. She remembered her mother doing that when she looked out into the lake and called them to dinner.

The door of a truck opened and after a few steps along the side of the house, the flood light was tripped, illuminating a tall, slender figure. Gail recognized her, but barely, though that was not the first question on her lips.

"Can I help you?" Gail asked, bottle tapping, annoyed and antsy against her thigh.

"Hi, I'm sorry to come over so late, but I just got off shift," she approached. Gail knew she was Chris' partner. She met her when she took the kids to the police station which shared a wall with the EMS office. "And I figured someone might really be missing this." Arnold the kangaroo appeared at her side.

"Holy shit," Gail breathed a sigh of relief. "We left him at the station?"

"Yeah, I found him when I was doing inventory," the woman offered. "Didn't want someone to miss out on such an important looking toy."

"You don't even understand how important he is," Gail smiled, taking the raggedy animal. "Her dad gave him to her when she was born. He's... shit. Arnold, you son of a bitch."

For a moment Gail simply stared at the kangaroo dead in the eye, swearing it up and down in her head. She vowed to find a tracking device and have it installed. She vowed to pay more attention.

"Thank you, so much. You've definitely made a little girl's morning when she wakes up and finds him..." Gail trailed off, searching her face, trying to find the name.

"Holly," she offered awkwardly.

"Right, yeah," Gail smiled as she smiled back. "I'm sorry. Today's been crazy. I didn't expect to meet everyone, but the kids wanted to see, and I'm a sucker." Gail laughed at herself because what else was there to do. She was inept.

"No, no, I get it. It's overwhelming." Gail watched as she tucked hair behind her ear. It was long and impossibly dark, like the sky, all velvety and night. "Chris told me about your brother. I figured that... Arnold," she smiled, pointing at the kangaroo. "I figured he might be important. Plus I had a rather raggedy looking teddy when I was a kid, and I couldn't go a night without her."

"You could have called or given it to Chris. You didn't have to drive out of your way," Gail shook her head, overwhelmed by kindness and understanding thoughtfulness.

"I live just over the hill," Holly interrupted, shaking her head. "Anyway. I just wanted to say that it really sucks, everything, and if you need anything, just let me know. I kind of know what it's like... Well, not the whole kids thing, but being a kid... who you know..."

"That's kind, thanks." They both shuffled awkwardly as the music from the porch slipped between the screen of the porch and drifted into the trees, romancing them with every note.

"Is that Big Star?" Holly asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Yeah," Gail nodded awkwardly now, animal tucked under her arm and elbow propping open the screen door as she took a sip from the bottle. "It's stupid," she shook her head. "I've been listening to my brother's old mix tapes. I dunno," she cradled the bottle to her collar. "I don't know why I'm telling you that. I just don't know why anything lately. So I just... listen. I'm sorry."

"He had good taste," Holly offered, tossing her hair back. Gail was thankful for the floodlight, or she wouldn't have seen her. Her black undershirt clung to her in the warmth of the night, her black work pants hung on her hips, big belt undone and hanging. She could disappear into the night with the click of a switch.

"Can I get you a drink, to thank you? I don't have much," she looked back over her shoulder to the light in the kitchen that poured onto the porch and was defeated in the yard. "I have beer, actually. And that's it."

Gail watched Holly debate in the dark. She wasn't sure why she was inviting a stranger to have a drink and interrupt her quiet night, but she had brought over the kangaroo.

"It was no trouble," Holly stopped her. "But if you don't mind the smell of my last call, then I could really go for a beer."

"I'll sit downwind," Gail said as she ducked her head and pushed the door open a little wider.


	3. The Orphan and the Aunt

_We were down by the shore w__hen the skies opened up_  
_and all the stars fell into the lake.  
__When the water was warm, w__alked in over my head,_  
_But, you pulled me out by the collar of my shirt._

Five o'clock was her favourite hour of the day. Not for the sun or the breeze or the glaringly obvious reasons of it being a beautiful time of day simply because it existed. It meant that she could take off her uniform and go home. It meant that she signed a few things, took off her weapon, emptied her locker, and made a bit of idle chit chat with whoever was in the station before slipping out the door. It meant that she got to make her way through the old back roads she was beginning to remember more and more, and find a waiting Charlie, eager to give her a hug, and hear about whatever Max was working on throughout the day. It meant she got to be a little less worried about whatever she was going home to find.

But five o'clock had a habit of taking forever to come around, especially the closer it got. She tried to tell herself that it was just because it was her first week, and she was out of practice for working extended periods of time. Or perhaps it was the fact that she wasn't used to a normal shift that actually ended when it was supposed to end. Regardless, she was relieved to have her first week under her belt. The only thing left was the rest of her life. And for three o'clock to arrive.

"Seventy-nine," Gail called out, following the car that roared by with her radar.

"Meh," Oliver shrugged and took another bite of his donut. "It's almost time to head back." Gail nodded and sipped from her coffee.

Gail enjoyed Oliver Shaw. She enjoyed his quick wit and sarcasm and jokes, and she enjoyed that she reminded him of someone's cool dad in middle school. He was, perhaps, the only person who knew the right thing to say when it came to Steve, which was minimal, if anything at all. He hadn't looked at Gail as if she was damaged or as if she were fragile. Instead he gave her a small smile and nod after sizing her up, after surveying her quickly though thoroughly in an unnerving glance. And that was that.

"I'm glad we got to work together today," the sheriff continued as both snacked and stared at the empty road. Both ways stretched into sizzling wavy humidity and they'd seen a total of six cars in an hour. June burned the roads to almost sticky tar again. Gail hated it. "I wanted to see how you were doing... with it all." Gail could almost feel him looking at her for a moment before he returned to looking out the window.

"It's good," she nodded, following another car with the radar gun and ignoring it for going within the speed limit. "I don't know. I like the job."

"Different from the city though," Oliver sighed, fiddling with the steering wheel.

"I needed something different," Gail supplied. "Did my mother tell you about what happened?"

"She told me about your brother," he interrupted her. "How you were there. But I get it. You don't have to-"

"No no, not that," Gail shook her head as she drank the last bit of coffee. "The bust a few months later?" Oliver shook his head. "I got attacked pretty good, and when I got home, Max nearly lost his mind. He was convinced I would die, too. He wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't leave his room. Anyway..." Gail turned to look up her end of the road. "The therapist said it might be good for a change. So it's good that things are different up here. We need different."

He felt guilty for asking questions, but he did know what happened to Steve Peck, and he did know that watching your brother die was probably a bit damaging, and he had observed Gail from time to time, and he was quite certain that she was not having any conversations of true meaning with anyone else. Fatherly and sanguine, Oliver took it upon himself to help her in whatever way he could because he would want someone to do it for his kid, because Gail was easy to father, because he saw cracks of happy in her that were so buried beneath layers that even she didn't see, it was astounding to watch it disappear and waver.

"Izzy says the kids are great," the sheriff supplied after a few minutes.

"She's really great with them," Gail smiled and told the father. "Charlie adores her and Max actually listens to her. I can't thank you enough for setting it up."

"Hey, you needed a babysitter, and Izzy needed money for tuition. It was a no-brainer."

The car was quiet as Gail checked her watch again and sighed. She followed another car and put the gun down again. She heard Oliver rustle around as he shoved napkins into his empty coffee cup. Gail just rested her head against the back of the seat and waited.

"How are things going with the kids, overall?" Oliver ventured. He watched Gail lull her head towards him before letting out a big sigh. "I can't imagine just... waking up one morning and having kids. I just... well if you need anything, just let me know. I've raised a few." Gail smiled at his offer as he started the car and looked both ways. She appreciated that they both were inept at looking at the other when being sentimental. She held Oliver with great regard and fondness.

"Kids are kids," Gail shrugged as they made their way back to the station. "I have no idea what I'm doing, but I worry about them every second about everything imaginable. I'm not sure if they're eating enough vegetables or getting enough sleep or if I haven't already severely scarred them beyond repair." Oliver let out a small chuckle, forcing Gail to snap her eyes to him with a bit of a glare.

"Every parent worries like that, Gail. That's like ninety percent of parenthood," Oliver explained with a reassuring smile.

"I hadn't expected that," she returned to the window sadly. "I mean, Steve was amazing. I'm not as good as he was. And they know that, I think."

"Yeah, but they don't need a dad," Oliver furrowed his brow for a moment as he weaved along the familiar road. "They had a dad. A great one. You don't have to fill up that part. You just have to be an aunt. An aunt who loved their dad and who remembers him. That's what they need."

Unconsciously, Gail hadn't realized she'd been striving to compete with Steve to provide the kids with everything. She hadn't been trying to displace him; far from it. But hearing Oliver try to assure her only led to the realization that she was trying too much and all she had to be was an aunt, and that was enough. To take away the worrying about doing enough, to be enough, that was what she had to do.

"It sounds like they're really happy though," Oliver offered as he found her deep in thought at what he meant as an off-handed and reassuring comment. "And at the end of the day, honestly, parent-to-guardian, sometimes that's all you can hope for and you take it as a win. If they're happy, the rest sort of falls into place behind it. Just keep doing whatever you're doing, and keep worrying, and it will work out."

"Thanks," Gail nodded and smiled at him bashfully. She was ashamed of how much she needed someone to say that, to tell her that they were going to be alright. "You're not like, reporting to my mother are you?" Gail worried as they hit the out skirts of town.

"Oh God no," Oliver laughed. "I'm honoured that you think a lowly town sheriff is on the radar of the superintendent but..."

"Yeah, well it wouldn't surprise me," Gail sighed again.

"You know how you worry about vegetables and bed times?" Oliver asked as they came to a light. Gail nodded. "Your mother, superintendent or not, still worries that you're getting enough vitamin D and if you're happy, too. And I can't imagine what it would do to me, to lose a child, no matter how old they are." Oliver's voice dropped slightly as he ran his thumb anxiously along the steering wheel. Gail ducked her head, heavy with thought now. "Anyway, I am surprised your mother has only called once to make sure you were alright with the job."

"Lucky," Gail rolled her eyes. "She calls me every day."

"Go easy on her," Oliver offered quietly. "You are a parent now, and you don't get the luxury of childhood grudges anymore."

"God how I miss those days," Gail observed, earning a chuckle.

For a few more minutes, they wove through town, Oliver waving occasionally at locals he knew. Gail just observed, trying to figure out what to do about dinner, trying to remind herself to take out cash to pay Izzy for the week, trying to remember to get her uniform cleaned. They passed by new stores opening as the town got bigger and newer, they passed old restaurants that had been there for decades, and the historical buildings that were almost prehistoric. Gail loved the town as a kid. She loved the diner and the ice cream and the festivals and the park. It felt like a home she hadn't discovered yet.

"First week done," Oliver observed as they pulled into the station. "If I had to unofficially grade you, I'd put it at an A."

"Thanks for everything, Oliver," Gail said as she watched him unbuckle. She just held on to her strap tightly.

"Oh, yeah, no problem, darlin'," he smiled, cracking the door.

"No, I mean... thank you for everything. For just being... well, I guess you. Thank you for being understanding. I don't know. Just thanks. You've gone above and beyond for me, and I appreciate it."

Gail wasn't sure why the words came out and tasted foreign. She wouldn't have said them last year. She wouldn't have thought to be appreciative. She wasn't that person, the one that said thanks and offered gratitude. But she was new, now.

"Yeah," he nodded seriously, meeting her eyes. "Yeah, of course." Maybe Gail loved him because he said the right things, maybe she could be okay here. "Now clean up this mess in here because someone got crumbs everywhere, rookie." With a small smile to herself, Gail rolled her eyes and Oliver watched her unbuckle and try to argue with him. He wasn't sure how, but he got that proud parent feeling, that parent sense that everything, at least for the moment, was the best it could be and one of his own was on her way to happy.

* * *

"Gail!" Chris called from behind the ambulance. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and squinted in the sun. It was five-thirty and she was ahead of schedule to get home, barring any complications. "Hey!"

"You don't have to shout," the cop turned and made her way across the parking lot, pocketing her keys and fist.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly. "I thought I missed you. Katy wanted me to invite you and the kids over this weekend. We're having a little lunch on Sunday." Gail dropped her bag and moved into the shade projected by the big box of the truck.

"Yeah, sure," Gail nodded, squinting still in the harsh light. "Can we bring anything?"

"Oliver is bringing some pasta salad, and we have all the burgers and hot dogs covered. Traci and Leo are bringing a slip n' slide. If you can think of anything else, you're totally welcome to bring it."

"Alright, I'll ask the kids," Gail nodded. "Should be fun."

"Oh, hey," Holly turned around the back of the truck, popsicle near her lips.

"Hey," Gail grinned. "What is Holly bringing?" she asked them both as Holly took a seat beside Chris.

"My glowing personality," she smiled, overwhelming and exaggerated. "And also pie. I made a mean apple pie."

"It's true," Chris nodded eagerly, fiddling with some contraption that went to some other contraption that probably saved lives.

"And to think, I almost considered you just a pretty face around here," Gail sassed back at Holly.

Their back and forth had been instantaneous, since the moment they met and only continued and grew more fun as the month went on since Holly returned a certain stuffed marsupial. When Gail invited Holly for a drink on her porch and they sat and talked about nothing about themselves, but instead just about things. Gail couldn't remember half of it, but she remembered the quiet that came when they alternated sips and looked out into the dark lake, as if they could see anything. It had been nice to have a friend, it'd been a nice development to add to the others that welcomed her and the kids into the community. Between Traci setting up playdates, a phenomena Gail was still relatively new to, and Chris and his girlfriend constantly inviting them to anything they were doing, to neighbours appearing at random intervals to introduce themselves and say hello both at home and when they were out, Gail was just overwhelmed with society. And then Holly evened things out. She hung around with Holly at the station, met her for coffee, joked. Gail felt like who she was before this all.

"And to think I was going to share my popsicle with you," Holly shook her head, taking another suck. "To celebrate your first week being done and all... but now..."

"Where did you even get it?"

"Ice cream man," Holly said, breaking it apart at the bottom handles.

"How very weird of you," Gail shook her head, but took the stick she was offered. "You have worse eating habits than Charlie,"

"I forgot it was your first week," Chris shook his head, still fiddling with the gadget in his hands. "Do you want to go grab a drink to celebrate?"

"Why would I need a drink? I have a popsicle," Gail shrugged, watching the juice run to her fingers, and licking it away. Chris just shook his head and grinned. "I would," Gail answered seriously. "But I promised the kids Friday Movie Night, so I'm completely booked."

"But you're coming on Sunday?" Holly asked, looking up from her stick hands.

"Yeah," Gail agreed. "I have to see these amazing pies."

"Pressure's on," Holly grinned.

As she went to say something else, the alarm sounded calling the ambulance. Gail stepped back mechanically as Chris and Holly cocked their heads to listen to the details over the speakers.

"Rain check on that drink," Gail offered as she watched them scurry up and slam the doors shut. "I could use one, but looks like you'll be busy."

"I'll see you," Chris offered, locking the door. "Am I driving?" he asked Holly as he moved towards the office to get keys. She just agreed.

"Be safe out there," Gail offered the paramedic as she buttoned her work shirt and held the popsicle between her lips as she did it.

"You still want a drink later?" Holly asked after finishing. Chris sprinted back out and Gail followed her around to the passenger side.

"Yeah," Gail nodded. "Cartoons and sing-a-longs are rotting my brain."

"Alright, I'll see you," Holly promised, hopping into her side of the ambulance. Before Gail could respond the door was shut and sirens started.

* * *

Her Fridays now were different from her Fridays from just over a year ago. Back in the city, Gail had a group of friends that had a lot of fun with various amounts of alcohol and dancing or work followed by dancing and alcohol. She wasn't irresponsible, she was simply twenty-something with a steady job that involved a gun and she made mistakes that had little consequences when compared to the gross levels of humanity she was confronted with in all of its depravity on a daily basis. Fridays, or really any days that she wasn't working, Gail was out; she dated Nick, she dated... around, she avoided her mother, and she lived without a care in the world.

Tonight was different. Tonight was filled with fast food and a fort and a ridiculous movie about a dog and a horse and something else that numbed Gail's mind to complete and total mush. But every now and then, Charlie would giggle and Max would laugh and look back to make sure that Gail was smiling, too. It was a far cry from who she was a long time ago.

But smothered in blankets and with a wiggling three year old on her lap, and a familiar auburn head of hair resting on her thigh, Gail wondered who she had become in such a short amount of time, and in such a way that she barely recognized it was happening at all.

"One more?" Max sat up and begged as the credits started to roll.

"It's late, bud," Gail yawned and checked her watch, finally feeling exhausted from the week and the month and the year.

"So? We can watch another," he tried. "You don't have to work tomorrow, right?"

"I don't, but you guys need a good night's sleep," Gail explained, rubbing her eyes and Charlie did the same. "Come on, it's time for bed." There were mandatory complaints, but Gail sat up and blew raspberries on Charlie's cheek and tried to tickle Max. "I want teeth brushed and butts in bed before I get up the stairs, okay?" A chorus of laughter mixed in the fort. "Go on up. If I beat you, I'm going to pick the movies next week."

"Ugh, it will be horrible," Max complained.

"You better beat me then," Gail sassed, sitting Charlie up. "I'm getting up. I'm going to get up soon." She made a show of moving.

"Okay, come on, Charlie," Max stood quickly.

"I'll be up shortly," Gail reminded them as they disappeared. "And I want fresh breath and kids in bed!" There were stomping on the stairs as Gail fell back down into the pile of pillows on the floor. She heard water running after a few minutes.

Gail laid on the floor of the living room in a fort made of old blankets just like her and her brother used to make. The couch was new. The television was new, but it felt similar with old pillows and a rug that was worn down from years and feet. The noises upstairs sounded like she would have a mess to clean up before bed, but to hear the brother and sister be simply kids and make a mess was nice. They were slow to warm up to being kids again. So Gail simply stretched and climbed out of her fort.

She made it to the stairs before she heard a knock at the door.

"Auntie Gail, I dropped my toothbrush!"

"I'll get it, get in bed," Gail called as she descended once more.

"Charlie is in my room!" Max yelled.

"I'm not!"

"Get in your beds!" Gail called as she reached the door. There was a tumult upstairs.

"Hi," Holly greeted her with a smile as the door opened.

"Hey," Gail returned it and watched her fidget slightly. Gone was the uniform that had become something almost defining about her, and instead, the paramedic was dressed normally, jeans and a t-shirt and a case of beer in her hand.

"I'm sorry it's late," she offered, checking her watch. "I just had a thing... and I couldn't get out of it."

"You missed movie night," Gail grinned before pushing the door open. "But since you brought drinks, you can pass."

"You're easy to please," Holly smiled, entering slowly.

"Just lately," Gail sighed as another noise emerged from above them.

"This is impressive," the paramedic observed the monstrosity in the living room.

"Yeah, well I'm kind of a big deal in the fort world," Gail shrugged nonchalantly. "I have to go put them to bed, would you mind?"

"Go, go," Holly said, heading towards the kitchen. Her ability to make herself comfortable in any place made Gail feel more at ease. She wasn't sure how Holly did it, with her laid back personality and easygoing demeanour. But she made Gail feel like she knew her forever, like she wanted to know her better. "I'll get you a drink."

"Thanks," Gail smiled and ran her hand through her hair, pulling it slightly before trying to straighten its messiness.

* * *

"I have to say, this really is an impressive fort," Holly offered, balancing her bottle on her stomach. Gail turned her head and looked over at the woman admiring her handiwork on the blankets and pillows. With a small smile Gail readjusted her head on her arm and exhaled a happy, slightly buzzed breath.

"The kids were pretty helpful."

"What did they think about your first week?" Holly asked after taking a sip.

"They were glad to have movie night, but they like Izzy, so I guess everything's alright," Gail observed, looking at the plaid pattern of the sheet and the light behind it. "My mom says she wants to take them for a few weeks in August, before school. I'm kind of nervous to ask them."

"That's kind of nice. It could be a good break," she tried.

"What if they don't want to come back?" Gail sighed, picking at her bottle label.

"They love you," Holly observed. "I've seen you all together," she continued as Gail scoffed. "Charlie looks at you like you can't do anything wrong, and Max, he thinks that you're funny and smart. They loved you. You're their father's sister."

"Yeah, but it's not the same," Gail reminded her. "Steve was... he was... Jesus, Holly, he was magic. He was that person you want to be around, like he's having the best time at a party and you just want to be invited, even if it's just for a little while, to be part of his world. He could quote songs and books on the fly. He was never still, he was always moving, but he was always quiet. He chose his words so precisely but so easily. I just... I'm not like him. And it's not fair that they don't get that."

"You're not so terrible," was all that Holly could offer. She turned her head this time and watched Gail speak. She watched the blondes eyes when she spoke, she watched her nervous hands. Holly couldn't pinpoint what brought her to Gail, but she didn't bother fighting it. Gail was witty and kind and she was incredibly defensive, as if she was constantly backed into a corner. But more than that, she was someone who just wanted to be happy, and she tried very hard in every minute, to fill it with happiness that she thought she was lacking. She was very alive, and very unsure of herself. To Holly it was charming and delightful and complex.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk about him so much to you. You must think I ramble," Gail shook her head, but Holly kept watching her. "I don't normally talk about him."

"I don't mind," Holly promised. She was quiet in the fort and not sure why.

"I spend so much time thinking about not thinking about Steve, that I end up thinking about him so much."

Holly shifted slightly. Her shoulder touched Gail's shoulder. Gail quieted and shut her mouth after opening it but thinking otherwise. No one else wanted to hear about Steve, and Gail didn't want to be the person that talked about a dead guy that no one else knew. Holly didn't mind though. Sometimes they could talk about anything and nothing and just facts and junk. Sometimes Holly let Gail talk.

"When I was fifteen, my dad was killed in a drunk driving accident," Holly sighed. She hadn't meant to tell Gail that, but it seemed important now. "And I get it, how hard it is. At least from the other side. But I wanted to talk about him all of the time, I wanted to talk to him. I don't know... It's just... I get it. You become a different person after it happens. You have to figure out how to be a person who doesn't have a brother anymore, just like I had to - and Charlie and Max will have to - figure out how to be children without a father anymore. But you're not the same person."

They were quiet and stared at the same blanket roof. Gail wanted to look at Holly, but she almost couldn't because as real and honest as she had been, Holly had been quiet and Gail realized she didn't know anything about her. She was an acquaintance. But now, Gail was confused, and oddly struck by how similar the paramedic was to her brother with her words. She spoke in a way that Gail understood and that was rare.

"What I mean is that you have to reinvent yourself, redefine who you are because all of a sudden you aren't the same person anymore, and the worst of it is, you remember who you were before it happened."

"What did you do after it happened?" Gail turned finally. Holly smiled and sipped from her drink again.

"Got angry," she chuckled. "Fell in love with my brother's best friend, ran off with her after graduation, backpacked through India."

"Wow," Gail whistled, low and appreciatively. "You were busy."

"Yeah, well," Holly shrugged. "With my family, you don't any of what I just said. You definitely don't date girls and you definitely don't travel through poor countries. Europe and anywhere with a beach, maybe," she debated. "And then I ended up here."

"What was he like?"

"My dad?" Holly met her eyes. Gail tilted her head closer. "Oh man, he was larger than life. Your brother made you want to be in his club; my dad made everyone in his own club. You walked into a room with him and he was your best friend. He liked to sneak me sweets. He gave me lollipops and he was always so proud of me. I remember that most of all. And when he was gone... I just felt like I didn't exist. There was no one that was proud, you know? I didn't exist."

"So you ran away to India?" Gail furrowed her brow.

"Everyone runs away from something," Holly shrugged. "I ran away from my family and ended up here when I was supposed to take over the family business, and you, you're running away from who you think you are, and you ended up here."

"Well, what a pair," Gail smiled slightly and took a long swig of her drink.

"The orphan and the aunt," Holly realized. "At least you got two amazing kids out of the deal. I got a shitty break up and adopted a dog."

"They are kind of great, huh?"

"Yeah. Most of the time I can't even think of how overwhelmed I am at being an instant guardian. I never thought about having kids."

"At least they aren't horrible. Some kids suck."

"That's true. Mine are kind of awesome."

"Thank goodness, or else I wouldn't want to hang out with you."

"Yeah, thank goodness for just that."

It was quiet in the pillows. Neither one wanted to say anything now, as their words sunk into each other's skin. The fan clicked overhead on its ancient spindle and the crickets sang just outside.

"Things have gotten a bit more interesting since you moved in," Holly whispered.

"Yeah," Gail agreed.

* * *

"Thanks for the drink," Gail offered, leaning against the rail of the front porch. Her ribs hurt from laughing and her cheeks burned from drinks. All in all, she felt good, she felt a bit healed and perhaps a bit more alive, but that may have been the sticky heat of the night, unseasonably not sleepy.

"Thanks for living on the way to my house," Holly offered.

"Thanks for being... you," Gail tried. "I dunno. Just thanks for it all."

"You're welcome."

Gail scratched at the back of her neck in a way that Holly was recognizing as a mannerism that Gail had when she was anxious or agitated for something in her own head. She found it endearing, despite not wanting to think that.

"I'll see you on Sunday," Gail offered.

"Yeah," Holly nodded, taking a step towards the open door. She paused and dug her hand into her pocket.

Before she could think, she looked at Gail. She smiled after turning back to the departing paramedic. In the daylight, Holly was knocked over by her eyes; in the dark they were lethal.

It was too late for Holly to stop when she realized what she was doing. She stuttered just inches from Gail's lips. Gail watched it happen, she watched something go through Holly's head, but she was unable to realize what it meant. She watched it happen though, and she licked her lips and then Holly kissed her. She felt her lips, warmer than the summer, warmer than June. She didn't mind them at all. It was sweet and soft and Holly's body moved closer with her lips. Gail's hand moved as her eyes closed, and held at Holly's jaw, held at her neck, pressed on her collar bone to keep her closer and remind her that she existed, that both of them existed in the quiet of a summer night in the beginning of July.

"I'm sorry," Holly pulled away, leaving a dazed and dizzy girl half leaning on the rail, half leaning forward towards her lips.

"I can't..." Gail stood, righting herself instantly. "I just... I can't... It's not... you."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Holly shook her head.

"I shouldn't... have... I didn't..."

"No, that was... me, I should have..."

Both spoke over each other, both shook their heads and looked away and burned bright and flushed and blushing at the same time. Gail inhaled deeply and swallowed, turning to look out onto her front yard. Even the lightning bugs were sleeping, even the stars seemed drowsy. Gail closed her eyes and licked her lips.

"I um, I have two kids that I just... I'm..."

"I know," Holly offered. "I'm sorry. I just thought. Well, I don't know. I just wanted to kiss you. So I'm sorry. Forget it?"

"It's not you, you know," Gail looked at her, shy and toeing the ground. Holly thought her eyes were torture, but her lashes were worse. "Not at all. Not you. Not even me. It's just where my life is right now."

"Yeah, no, we don't have to talk about it," Holly chuckled awkwardly. She hadn't meant to do it. She hadn't meant to do it at all even though she wanted to do it. She ruined it for no reason at all other than it was late and the sky was beautiful and the wind felt good on her skin. "I just... you looked like you needed kissed, and I really wanted to." Gail blushed but ignored it.

"Thanks, I guess," she furrowed her brow and grinned.

"No harm, no foul," Holly tried.

"Not right now," Gail sighed. "Just, not right now."

Holly met her eyes and stared at her for a moment, trying to figure it out. She nodded.

"Alright then," Holly nodded again. She couldn't stop.

"Okay," Gail nodded as well. They shared a shy smile and Holly made her way down the stairs and into the night.

Gail watched her get into her truck. She leaned on the railing and watched it happen, watched Holly leave.


	4. The Fourth and the Fifth

_Ain't that how it always seems to go?_  
_When something good comes, it goes._  
_Ain't that how it always seems to go?_  
_How it goes._  
_How it goes._

"Ouch," Holly grimaced, pulling at Gail's tanktop and seeing the damage. "You should have worn sunscreen."

"Alright, knock it off," Gail winced and pulled away as Holly took a seat on the couch beside her.

"If only someone in the health services field had told you to put on sun screen..." Holly grinned and munched on her bag of chips. "And if only you would have taken their, not only educated, but rational and sound advice, instead of being stubborn and pasty."

"I was born this way," Gail complained, looking at her red shoulders. "And it hurts. Just like your words. Your words are like a sunburn."

"The kids aren't burnt, are they?" Holly asked, putting her feet up on the coffee table and searching in her bag for whatever was left at the bottom. Gail shook her head and pressed her hand on her shoulder to soothe some of the burn. She was just grateful to be out of her uniform that scratched and rubbed her sore skin into a fitful numbness. "Good, at least some people listened to me and now reap the rewards."

"I'm never going out again," Gail sighed, reaching her hand in Holly's bag as she offered. "I'm going to live indoors at all times."

"It was fun. You have such a nice spot on the lake. And s'mores were a good idea," Holly explained, half-congratulatory. "Thank goodness you know someone who comes prepared with supplies and knows things about sun screen. God, I am such an amazing friend." Holly grinned as she joked and Gail scowled.

"Okay, how long is this going to continue?" the cop shook her head and watched the paramedic smiled victoriously.

"Probably until the next time it happens," Holly reasoned.

With a humph, Gail rolled her eyes and settled onto the couch. She hadn't even meant to stay an extra ten minutes just to look as if she wasn't waiting to spend a little time with Holly before heading home. That would have been ridiculous, that would have been a stupid reason to hang around so casually.

But she did. Because she knew that if she waited a few minutes, she would be rewarded with watching Holly come out of the back room after stacking her equipment, and she would watch her unbutton her shirt and belt, all with eyes peaking up from behind a magazine. From the garage bay, Holly would laugh with Chris and start to restock after their call, and she would complain about the heat and be down to her undershirt in minutes. She would grab a snack, check her watch, and try not to take a peak into the lounge to see if Gail was leaving or left or just getting off work.

It was a delicate dance of back and forth and coyness and wordlessness. It was Gail looking at Holly in a different way when the other wasn't looking. It was her inviting Holly over to go swimming with the kids. It was Gail getting more and more comfortable, despite her inability to fight it like she originally planned. It'd been a month of ease and fun and just quiet, a quiet in life that was accented by Gail feeling relatively competent. It'd been a month of occasional ogling and sticking around work for no reason at all.

"You want to come over for dinner tonight?" Gail asked as Holly readjusted. "Max decided we have to learn how to make pizza from scratch."

"I am always one for pizza," Holly nodded. "But I can't." Gail watched her make herself busy. Holly was never antsy. She was laid back and sure. "I have a thing. Actually I meant to ask if you'd watch Hank."

"A thing?" Gail tried. She hadn't learned anything new about Holly. She hadn't really tried to push it, but she knew that Holly could cry from laughing, and she knew that she loved to swim, and that she hated olives.

"A Fourth of July event..." Holly shook her head and balled up her empty bag. "Back in the city."

"You'll be gone all weekend?"

"Yeah, but I can have Chris watch Hank, if it's a problem."

"No, no," Gail shook her head, unable to think of how to ask more about this thing that made Holly anxious and uncomfortable. Gail sat, firm and solid, not wanting to touch Holly's shoulder, tensing all of her muscles to avoid it. "Charlie loves Hank, so I think it shouldn't be a problem."

"I can bring him over after shift. Maybe grab a slice on my way."

"Yeah, alright," Gail nodded. "You okay?"

"It's going to be one hell of a weekend," was all Holly could manage. Her smile came after, sad and not as big as it had been when she had teased Gail's sunburn, not nearly half as big as when she put up a rope swing with Max, not nearly a quarter as big as when she watched Gail enjoy a piece of her homemade pie.

"We'll miss you at the party," Gail offered, standing with her bag. "The kids are excited to throw a beach party and have fireworks."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I don't want to be anywhere else. But I have to." They were quiet together. Holly stared at her feet on the coffee table.

"I'll see you later," the cop offered.

"Thanks," Holly smiled, not getting up. She just smiled for a moment and then looked back at her hand.

"You can blow off whatever you're doing," Gail tried. "I'm way more fun."

"Not when you look like a lobster," Holly teased again, earning another eye roll. Holly left for a moment, but came back so quickly, Gail couldn't believe that she was dreading this weekend as much as she earlier supposed.

* * *

There was beauty in an afternoon surrounded by people and feeling very much on the outside. Watching quietly while still being on the cusp of included. Tables full of food and plates half-emptied faded as the lights came on in the yard. A herd of kids ran around, chasing lightning bugs, swimsuits still damp from a day on the water. Gail took a sip from her bottle and watched Max showing Charlie a bug in his hands. Two months they'd lived here, and entire lifetimes had passed. Holly's words about being a new person, a new person who is different and trying to figure out how to be alive, echoed in her head sometimes.

The night smelled liked charcoal from the grill and firewood from the bonfire and water from the lake, blown in from between the trees. The crickets were a dull bass to the conversations and laughter and squeals of the people on the lakeshore as the night became grey and descended slowly into night. Gail simply watched it all happen around her because it felt good to be surrounded by good; it felt good to feel as if she was exactly where she was meant to be. She'd played horseshoes and cards, joked with all of the adults, played in the water with the kids, and she felt comfortable in her own skin, save for the fact that she kept looking for Holly.

Charlie ran as fast as her little legs would carry her, trying to keep up with her brother and Leo. Hank, the large, slobbery dob followed behind, romping and panting giddily. Her stomach was full of delicious food, her arms were cold, though warming as the fire began to take off, and her smile was genuine, perhaps the most genuine that she could have ever been. The trees were tall and mighty and the sky and stars seemed to bleed right into them.

"How's it going?" Chris saddled up beside her in a chair with a plate of food in his hand.

"Good, good," Gail smiled and sat back a bit. "Just watching the kids. They look happy."

"It's been a good day," Chris nodded, taking a large bite.

"It really has," she agreed.

"Too bad I couldn't convince Holly to come. She loves when everyone gets together, and she hates the city." Absently Gail's ears perked slightly at her name.

It wasn't because Holly kissed her once. That would be absurd. Gail tried not to look at her any differently, and to her credit, nothing changed from Holly. The paramedic was still fun and teased and never let awkwardness sneak up on them. It only reminded Gail that she didn't know anything about her, and inevitably she was the one thinking about the kiss and made herself awkward.

"Why does she hate it so much? Some days I can't wait to go back, if that's even possible."

"Well," Chris shrugged, chomping on his food. "I probably would hate it too if my mom paraded me around and made up stories about why I wasn't there. Seriously, who doesn't love to brag about their kid being a paramedic?" he asked, waving his burger in his hand. "My mom practically has a sign she carries around."

"Sounds familiar," Gail sighed.

"Mrs. Peck is a bunny rabbit compared to Holly's mom," Chris laughed.

"It's only three days, right?" the cop worried slightly.

"It's only one day," Chris explained, swallowing hard. "If I know my partner, and I do. I've seen about ten of these trips..." Chris did math in the air. "Yeah, about ten, and if my calculations are right, she'll be home tomorrow and get pissed drunk."

"Finally, something about her I can understand."

"She's not so bad," Chris tried, watching Gail watch the kids throw rocks in the lake.

"No, not at all," Gail clarified. "She just always seems so cool. She's like a freaking cucumber. And I always kind of feel damaged next to her. She let's me talk and talk and talk and she is amused, you know? Like, I don't bore her. And I can't imagine her upset."

"She likes you," the paramedic observed, dropping his plate between his feet and rubbing his hands on his shorts. Gail pulled her sweatshirt a little bit tighter against the chill on her skin from the lake and the fire.

"I like her too," she shrugged. "She's weird and fun and makes me laugh and I can talk to her about anything."

"I mean, she _likes_ you," Chris defined.

For a moment Gail swallowed and looked down at her arms wrapped around herself. She looked up at the logs burning red on the fire, she watched the embers dance through the thin smoke and disappear like little notes into the sky.

"I mean, I _like_ her, too," Gail explained.

"Oh," Chris furrowed his brow and stared at her. She felt his eyes for a moment before somehow getting the nerve to turn to him. "Oh," he nodded and breathed and sighed. "Well, shit." There was a slight smile on his lips once the bewilderment settled.

"She told you?" Gail asked, aloof and uninterested as she turned back to the kids.

"Yeah, of course," he said. "She's my partner."

"I haven't done anything about it," Gail rambled, out of no where. "I can't and won't do anything about it." She wanted to explain herself, but she couldn't. Her relationship with Holly was platonic and perfect how it was. She wouldn't risk it. She wouldn't risk her relationships with the kids. She just had to keep her head above water for a little longer, until she could get the kids to school and day care and she could get on a better schedule, and then she could figure out what made her terrified of touching and looking at Holly. No, for now she would hide behind her shoddy answer.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded.

"She told you," Gail sighed. Chris had the sense to look guilty. Gail fumed. "She's really upset when she gets back?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"We're just friends, Chris," Gail insisted.

"I know."

"I mean it."

"Yeah, I know."

"Chris."

"I get it," he held his hands up in defeat though he smiled widely.

"Aunt Gail, is it fireworks now?" Charlie ran up, nearly out of breath.

"You have to ask Chris, lovebug," the aunt hugged her close.

"Please, Chris?" Charlie begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect. Gail joined her and pouted.

"Definitely," he agreed with little encouragement and Gail smiled and kissed her niece.

* * *

Holly's house was bigger than Gail expected. It was bigger than Gail's. It was a lot nicer to boot, which was also surprising because Holly drove a beat up old Bronco and ate junk food like it was going out of style and owned, from what Gail could tell, about three pairs of jeans and six shirts. It didn't make much sense at all. But Holly's house was huge, and her porch was painted better than Gail's. It was bigger too, and it was just the front.

The sun was long since gone behind the tall trees that swayed above Holly's house. Gail wasn't sure why it took so long for her to ever visit it, but she found herself there after dropping Max at Leo's for a sleepover. And since Charlie was already dozing in the back seat, she passed her own barely held up mail box and moved to what she guessed was Holly's. The house was huge. The house was nice.

The night came in slowly and then suddenly, encompassing the trees and sky so quickly that the stars took a moment to blink themselves awake and appear. For being just after July fourth, the air was sweet, a sweetness that usually came in late August to beckon the coming of fall. While the day was clear and cloudless, the evening wore on to be scattered and then conquered by an evening storm. Heat lightning bucked and clawed at the sky, lashing out against the edges of cumulous clouds, puffy and mighty with the bravado of millennia of conquest. There was no rain. There was a deadening of the breeze though the trees waved weakly in surrender.

The sound of tires on the gravel made Hank lift his big head from Gail's lap as she stopped stroking his ear. She did not have an affinity for animals. She was barely capable of human interactions in a pleasant way, but Hank was big and slobbery and had velvet ears and Gail enjoyed his humph when he laid down, and the fact that they missed his owner together. Gail looked towards her own car to register any movements from Charlie, but the little girl slept quietly in her seat, the light breeze running over her forehead and into her curls.

When the familiar truck came to a stop, Gail leaned down and kissed Hank's miscoloured head before the mutt bolted to greet his love. But Holly didn't emerge from the car just yet. It took her a moment, as if she debated turning around, as if she could will herself to be alone. But soon the lights went out, and Hank whining at the door of the truck made her give in, and Holly hopped down.

Gail watched the sky glow yellow and flash golden while rubbed and cooed with her dog. There was a distant grumble, a long lost beating of timbre. It was miles off, at least, but the summer sky was easier to travel through, more slick, more open and free and wild. Storms transported themselves from here to there and back again at a moments notice, dancing upon tree tops, fighting among themselves, against themselves, over themselves, through the sky, flashing peacock feathers of lightning and growling in thunder with puppy-like yelps of pseudo-pain.

"Hey," Holly said, sitting beside Gail on the top step of her porch.

"Hi," Gail turned her chin on her palm and watched the tall paramedic watching the sky. "I thought you could use some cake." Gail produced the plate beside her, warmed and wilted in the muggy evening.

"You know me well," Holly grinned and peaked under the foil before licking a bit of icing from her finger. "Did you make it yourself?"

"Oh God no," Gail chuckled and stretched her legs. "Mostly Max and Charlie. I just supervised. They wanted to make something for the party yesterday."

Gail waited for Holly to take some sort of bait to talk about her weekend, to talk about why she was home a night early to drink and be alone, and why it must have bothered her that Gail was ruining it the same way that Holly ruined her will to quit her every day. But instead the paramedic licked a bit of icing from her thumb again and closed the foil before setting the plate down.

"It feels good to be home," Holly inhaled deeply and leaned back on her palms. She watched the dog walk over to Gail's car and sniff the window where Charlie slept in the night, unaware of the storm raging quietly above her.

"Chris told me that you might have had a rough visit," Gail turned to watch her. She didn't want to look away from her squirming. But Holly wasn't antsy or anxious as she had been just a few days before; instead she was slightly smiling and watching the sky with raptured amazement.

"Chris has a big mouth," Holly sighed, and vaguely snapped.

"He does," Gail nodded. "But he didn't tell me to be here. I just figured you might need some cake."

"That is the one thing I was missing," Holly smiled at Gail.

The wind picked up for just a moment, shaking the branches and making the grass hiss against it. The firefight above continued, unaware of the tumult it kicked up below. The flashing of lightning knew no bounds, nor did it care at all that it made hinges squeak in fear and skin prickle with the electricity in the air. Storms were beautiful, righteous thing, but summer storms were raw and wild and tempestuous things. Gail loved them.

"Where are the kids?"

"Max is at Leo's for a sleepover, and Charlie is asleep in the car. She conked out about an hour ago," the aunt explained, leaning her forearms on her thighs and knitting her hands together, worried they would misbehave like the thunder; act up like the lightning.

"How was Hank?" Holly continued to avoid anything of substance.

"Slobbery," Gail grimaced and shook her head. At hearing his name, the oaf loped towards the couple on the steps. "He wouldn't leave Charlie's side."

"He's a good boy," Holly defended, rubbing his sides as he stood and scratched his own belly in unison with her fingernails. "You just have to let him be who he wants to be. He's not even the slobberiest dog out there."

With a clash of thunder above, the dog jumped slightly, put his ears back and went onto the porch near the screen door, earning a small laugh from Gail.

"You didn't have to -" Holly began.

"It was fine," Gail promised, cutting off her response. "How was your mom?"

That question was the one Holly was fearing. Gail would ask her something personal and then she would answer, because it was Gail, and she didn't even seem to understand how pretty she looked with those eyes and her messy hair that curled and flew away as the storm played through the air and upon her very skin. Gail didn't know the half of the things Holly would do if she simply asked, and it terrified the paramedic beyond compare.

"I won't bore you," she tried to evade.

"I came for you," Gail insisted, turning to look at Holly as she sat up and wiped the dust from her palms from the porch. They danced beside each other, they stepped around each other like lightning in the clouds, close and closer and closest before a spark and then a push to separate corners. Holly lost, and she knew it the moment she pulled up and saw Gail waiting to make sure she was alright. With a sigh she relented.

"She gets under my skin," Holly explained. "I don't know. I just... I'm so riled up after I see her, after I remember who I was, or who she wanted me to be, or who I should have been. I don't know. They all blur together. Like, I feel so much. I usually need a night to-"

"Readjust," the cop supplied for her.

"Yeah, that," she agreed eagerly. "Ninety-nine percent of the time I feel like I'm a grown up, like I've accomplished things, like I'm not an angry teenager who is still brooding over their dad and I've somehow gotten used to it. And then, that one percent of the time I just become a child that my mom dresses up and parades around and I have my yearly update on the company and I make my yearly donation and sign it all away, and I get spoiled and come home and mope until I feel like I'm the me that left again."

Gail didn't move, but let Holly speak. It was more words than she ever heard from the paramedic. But they were all honest and they were all eerily familiar to Gail, so that she felt as if she'd thought them herself at some point. Holly leaned forward and exhaled a restless breath. Gail watched her hands wrestle in the dark. She was powerless against them though.

"And then you come home to me sitting on your porch with nothing to say," Gail offered, looking up at the sky.

"Yeah," Holly nodded, resting her chin on her free palm. The thunder rolled in a bit closer, still just a grumbling tummy in the gluttonous clouds.

"Is this a bad time to ask if you're loaded?" Gail turned so her other cheek was on Holly's knee and grinned.

"I'm not," Holly shook her head. "I don't take any money from them, if that's what you mean and Chris is a bigger gossip than I thought."

"Damn, well... look at the time, I guess I should be going..." Gail pretended to stand before looking down at the scowling paramedic. "That was a joke."

"It was hilarious," Holly rolled her eyes. In another movement, Gail sat once again beside her.

"You're better at being supportive than I am," Gail sighed. "But I'm here. For whatever it's worth."

"I know," Holly nodded. "But I think it's just because you're trying to get in my pants."

"Easy there, Stewart," Gail warned. "There are little ears in the car."

"But it's true."

"No. It's not," Gail sassed.

"A little."

"A little."

The two sat on the porch step and looked up at the sky as it burst and flashed like it had swallowed fireworks are were struggling to keep them in its belly. Holly had explained about her relationship with her mother, to some extent, to the disconnect she felt, to her home, to herself, to her history. Gail understood it to an extent. It changed nothing about her though. Holly was still Holly, and she very much needed what Gail was giving her at that moment. But there was nothing left for her to do, and she wasn't sure how long she could sit there under the pretence of friendship. Every second pushed them further and they knew it.

"I should get Charlie home," Gail decided, rubbing her palms on her knees. "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely," Holly promised as Gail stood. She kept her seat but watched the blonde move.

"You can come home with us, if you'd like..."

"No, I just need some sleep, I think," Holly shook her head.

"Alright, well..." Gail faltered and swallowed.

Gail leaned forward slowly and kissed Holly's cheek. She leaned her forehead on Holly's for just a second as the lightning stopped. The world was quiet and the thunder was far away. The breeze slipped around and slithered between them. Holly closed her eyes and smiled because for some reason it was the most intimate and loving gesture that she could remember anyone every doing for her. But here she was; here was Gail, unable to realize how kind and sweet she could be, trying to do something, and coming up with this, a defeated, frustrated gesture to tell Holly she was here. It was not overtly intimate, but it was there and it was quiet and it was; it was extremely intimate. So intimate that they closed their eyes, as if it were a kiss, as if it were a dream. So Holly smiled because as worried as she was about coming home, as addicted as she was to her system of reacclimatizing to home after her mother and her business, this brought her home. A blonde she met and fell for on accident, a cop she befriended and kept her in that position for reasons she understood, a girl who kissed like a tsunami.

"Sleep well," Gail whispered. "I'll see you at work."

"Yeah," Holly nodded. "Thank you." Gail nodded. "For the cake." The cop grinned and nodded again, slowly backing away towards her car. She watched the big, dopey dog flop onto the spot she had been, and she watched Holly lean on him again. Gail watched her be the ridiculously cool and insanely collected girl that drover her wild, that danced around and joked with everyone like she was their best friend. Holly was too amazing for Gail, and she thought that every second. But it made her try harder, and that was what was addicting. "Goodnight, Gail."


	5. The Smoke and the Fire

_Words crashing through the flames; smoke spreading far  
And I thought we'd remain free from it's harm.  
You let the fire out, and it's right in front of me._

"He tried to hit me once," Traci explained as she adjusted on the hood of the police car. "Once was all it took."

"You left?" Gail asked, covering her mouth as she chewed her sandwich. She eyed her partner with a squint against the sun, sizing her, trying to contain her appreciation and wonder. She watched Traci grin and shake her head, adjusting her forearms on her belt as she fiddled with the lid on her coffee cup.

"I broke his jaw," she explained after a sip and larger smile. Gail smiled and nodded, slightly unable to think of anything to say to that. A chuckle rose in her throat though, appreciative and supportive. "And then I left."

"Did you really?" Gail asked, crumpling the foil from her lunch. Traci stole a fry from the tray and nodded.

Gail's adoration of her new partner grew once more. Before, Gail idolized Traci as a single mother with a career, and then she got to know her, be partnered with her, ask her questions, learned from her about everything work and life related, and she appreciated her beyond anyone else. Now though, Gail was learning why she should love Traci in her entirety as a human being. Sharp, intelligent, bold, no nonsense, decisive, and funny, Traci kept Gail on her toes, kept her going, and was proving to be one of, if not actually, the best partner she could or had ever had. Gail didn't even worry when Max was with her. And that was a rarity. The real truce, the real anchor though in their relationship, was when Leo spent the night with Max, and Gail finally felt the weight of what the rest of her life was supposed to be. It was realest then, and she wasn't sure why. But Traci told her that it was alright, and so it was.

"He deserved it," her partner shrugged. "I told him I'd do it again if I ever saw him."

"But he still sees Leo, right?"

"Yeah," Traci sighed. "More in the summer, and every other holiday in the school year. But it's his job to get here and he has supervised visits."

"I can't imagine all of it," Gail shook her head. She bit on the end of her straw. Both cops surveyed the street in front of them from the parking lot between the park and the diner. "I mean, divorce and lawyers and just... I don't know. Raising Leo on your own. Dealing with Dex. I can barely handle the mess I have now let alone problems from another adult."

"Your brother had to go through it, I'm sure," Traci said, watching a group walk on the opposite side of the road. She waved to someone who knew her from something.

"Not really," Gail sighed, tossing her empty trash into the bin. "Ally just picked up and left one morning, about a month after Charlie was born. They had trouble off and on forever. Steve was in it, she was never there. She up and ran off with some dock worker. Last I hear, about a year and a half ago, she was on the west coast."

"Now that's something I don't understand," Traci shook her head. "I can't imagine leaving Leo with Dex. Or leaving him period."

"Steve was a good dad though," Gail explained with her hands, still unable to comprehend the entire situation as well. "He did anything for those kids."

"I bet," Traci nodded, aware that she had inadvertently stumbled upon a sore spot.

After being together for about a month and a half, Traci realized that her partner was much like an apple. You could stare at the outside and size it up and hope that when you took a bite it was juicy and wonderful, and sometimes it was. But others, your thumb hit a brown, raw spot, mushy and barely covered by much protection, the skin becoming leathery and weak and giving to the mush beneath and you simply felt bad for poking that spot. Gail Peck was a minefield of brown, mushy spots that she tried to protect with a skin much thinner than she actually knew. Traci enjoyed that, she respected it more - the skin, the front, the display of being alright despite having no substance there, despite melting away and not wanting to, despite disappearing in spots until little brown, tender bruises were all that was left.

"I mean, he loved Ally. He tried. When she left, he followed, tried to do... I don't know, actually. He tried everything," Gail rambled, fidgeting with her watch. It had been Steve's. It was old and too big for her, but she put an extra hole in the band and wore it anyway. "She just couldn't be what he needed, and I think I respect her for leaving. It was for the best."

"Do you think she knows?" Traci ventured softly. She watched Gail look up sharply and squint against the sun, holding her hand up to her forehead to shield from the August afternoon sun. Gail's entire face twisted against the heat and she shook her head before looking back down again. Gail Peck was antsy when a finger was pressed to her bruised spots. She squirmed under them, as if she was fighting against the weakness of her own skin, telling herself to be pushed harder and not show she was uncomfortable. But she wiggled and couldn't keep still.

"I hope so," Gail decided.

Traci snapped her mouth shut as she searched for the right thing to say after stepping into this quagmire of a conversation. She tried to open it again as Gail pulled and pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled and pushed the straw into her cup, playing the loud plastic instrument like a stopwatch. The sun filtered through the shade of the trees above, and Traci decided there was nothing else to do but give up to the end of the summer and hope that something could happen to fix it.

"Max doesn't say anything, has he? I mean," Gail blurted. "He's... okay, right? When he comes over, he's like... normal? I mean.. I know he's normal, but sometimes I'm not sure he's okay. I don't know what not okay looks like."

"He's wonderful, Gail," Traci promised. "He's normal. As normal as any kid who has to go through this can be."

"Okay," the blonde nodded, still not looking back at her partner. "Alright."

"You're doing fine."

_"Car seven-four," _dispatch sizzled over the radio.

"Go for seven-four," Gail jumped on it to save herself.

_"Residential building fire on the nine hundred block of Sycamore Avenue. Fire and EMS held at previous call. Please respond."_

"We're on our way," the blonde spoke into her shoulder and threw her cup into the bin as Traci did the same and got into the driver's seat. "ETA on rescue?"

_"Fifteen minutes,"_ the voice chirped. _"Evacuate and secure scene."_

"Ten-four, car seven-four en route."

"Well, today just got a little bit more busy," Traci observed as they turned on the sirens and sped onto the street in the direction of the fire. "Fire and rescue were way out in the other county last time I heard from them. Some accident on the highway."

"How far is the stand down unit?" Gail asked, watching the streets and cars zoom past as they made their way across town. Gail found smoke in the air growing darker in the nice day.

"If the East York isn't called away, it will take them about a half hour to get here, and that's if they called them before us," Traci sighed.

"Holly was complaining the other day about the lack of available stations and crews."

"Yeah, it's the same all around," Traci agreed.

"She told me a few things about first aid."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Traci looked at Gail for a moment and saw her nodding to herself, fara way and precise, dragging her along this path towards something she wanted to talk about but was afraid to bring up completely.

"Holly and you are pretty close." The sirens echoed through Main Street as cars pulled to the side for them to weave through.

"Yeah," Gail agreed. "She told me not to be a hero. Just like Charlie. Charlie told me that I'm supposed to come home every night. I've never thought so much about dying since I moved here."

"Since your brother died," Traci corrected.

"Yeah well, since all of it. Everyone keeps telling me not to die, as if I hadn't thought about it. Like it's a new thing. And Holly just tries to-"

"Protect you."

"Yeah."

"How rude." Traci tried to remain indignant, but she smirked and Gail knew it. "Gail, you have people around you who love you and want you to come home. They are going to worry about you."

"The other day, Holly told me she was just glad I didn't run into burning buildings, and the occasional bullet wasn't so bad."

"It was a joke, Gail," Traci sighed. "Leo worries all of the time. But I explained to him what I do and why I do it, and it helps. He gets to see that I'm just trying to do something good, that I am trying to be noble, that righteousness and justice and selflessness can exist in the world. It is important for them to know it; to know why Steve did what he did. He didn't die because he wasn't vigilant enough. He died because he signed up for this job, and this job requires sacrifice and duty and the kids will hate it, but they have to know that if simply wanting to come home every day was enough, he'd be here still because nothing could taking him willingly away."

Traci's words were important for Gail. They were important for herself because on most days she had to trick herself into going to work and away from her son. But that was it, deep down, this inherent need to do something, to believe in something.

"Just funny how it works." Gail said, watching the flames appear down the block as they nudged their way forward on the street. The car came to a stop and Gail looked at the tinderbox. Flames were licking the windows and smoke was seeping out of cracks and crags. Neighbours held their hands to their mouths in horror and in coughing.

"I still have trouble calling them mine. They're Steve's. And Holly. She's..."

"They're yours, too."

Gail got out of the car and ignored Traci's words. It should have been alarming how quickly they transitioned back to cops, how their mother skin fell off, and they became servants of the community. They set the perimeter and pushed back watchers. Gail radioed for help and the ETA once again. They spoke to the woman, covered in smoke, and they tried to figure out what was happening. Gail forgot everything else. She felt better after talking to Traci. She always did.

"Ma'am, I need you to sit down and breathe," Gail explained, helping the soot-covered woman sit up. She held at her chest and kept gasping and pointing.

"My, my my my my," she stuttered.

"It's okay, the fire and medic people will be here soon," Gail tried, soothing her as the heat radiated from the buildling behind them.

"My son," she pointed at the second floor.

"Okay, it's okay," Gail said, her head turning between the woman and the house. "Traci, where's the fire squad?"

"Fifteen out," the other cop said, ushering people back as another squad car pulled up. Gail stood as she heard her words and started to pull on her radio. She pulled at her vest until it fell in a small pile on the front lawn.

"Don't tell Holly, okay?" she looked back at her partner. With a small grin, Gail unbuttoned her shirt and balled it up and put it close to her face.

"Gail, just wait."

It fell on deaf ears, however, as the blonde, bent over and covered, ran into the house. For a moment, Traci took a step forward to stop her, but Gail waved her hand for her to stay back as she disappeared by smoke.

* * *

"Where is she?!" Holly stomped into the locker room, nearly bowling Traci over as she was on her way out. Traci simply pointed behind her and towards the lockers before getting out of the way of the woman on a mission.

The air in the locker room was thick with steam, it was thick with a hint of charcoal and smoke. It was a small room. Much smaller than the men's side, but much bigger than the medic side of the building which was actually a functioning house they stayed over night in and lived in as if it were their own while on duty. Holly hated the showers in the locker room. She hated locker room's in general. That musty smell of old clothes never quite dry. But now she didn't recognize much of it.

Gail didn't hear the commotion of the locker room door hitting the wall in its frenzied open state. Nor did she register Holly's footsteps approaching. Instead, she held her face in her palms and leaned over, shoulder's hunched and muscle's still aching. She took deep breaths and occasionally coughed deep in her chest. But she did not hear anything else. She was too busy trying to figure out what she'd done, or why she'd done it, and everything that went with that.

With a helpless sigh, Gail eventually stood and tossed her towel into her locker before licking her finger and trying to rub at a stubborn spot of soot on her forearm.

"How could you pull that today?" Holly snapped, approaching with quiet anger that made her body feel lean. Gail jumped at hearing her voice. Hand on chest and lungs coughing at the sharp intake and smoke still tickling there.

"Jesus Christ, you can't sneak up-"

"You could have been killed," Holly cut her off, surveying Gail as best she could. "What the hell were you thinking?" She pushed Gail slightly.

"What the hell, Hol?"

"You could have been hurt!" Holly's voice was higher and more angry than Gail could ever remember. Her eyes were confused and greatly distressed.

"Yeah, but I wasn't," Gail shrugged with a cocky grin. It didn't work on Holly. Gail knew it was a long shot, but she had to try anyway.

"You could have been hurt!" Holly paced slightly, glaring at the deflated cop.

"How is the little boy?" Gail asked, shyly running her hand through her wet hair.

"He'll be fine. Slight burn on his shoulder, but he's great considering," Holly shook her head as she recited what she'd heard at the hospital. The entire trip home with Chris, the anger had brewed in her gut, ready to blow over with Gail's stupidity. "Why wouldn't you go to the hospital? You should have gone."

"I'm fine," Gail smiled and shook her head. She watched Holly's eyes continually check her, continually look to see if she was lying, looking for any defect at all to pounce and worry over. Yet she didn't seem to register anything at all. Holly's deep brown eyes were eagerly trying to figure things out and their concern followed Gail. Unfortunately she coughed in that moment of fine-ness.

"You could have smoke damage or one of many lung complications."

"I'm fine," Gail coughed again.

"Is this just a Peck thing?" Holly asked, digging into the side of her pants. "Just run into danger at a moment's notice, regardless of who it could hurt?" She pulled out her stethoscope. "Sit," she tucked them into her ears. "I mean it, sit. If you're not going to go to the hospital..." Holly had a sternness that was almost terrifying. Gail obeyed. "Stupid. It was stupid. You should have waited." Gail winced as the cold metal came into contact with her back. Holly's hands slipped under Gail's tank top. It'd been the first time she touched the skin of her back, and she would have liked something more intimate. "They were fifteen minutes out," she continued to murmur as she listened.

"The kid was-"

"Shh!"

"I couldn't-"

"Shh!"

With a grumble, Gail's shoulders slumped and she let Holly listen to her lungs creak.

"Running into a fire," the paramedic shook her head and moved the cold metal disk around as Gail breathed. "You're a goddamn idiot, that's what you are." Gail rolled her eyes and smirked despite herself. They were quiet as Holly continued to listen and Gail continued to breathe. She coughed despite her best attempts not to give in to her shortness of breath. "You should get a chest X-ray," Holly informed Gail after a few more listens.

"I'm fine," Gail insisted once again.

"You ran into a burning house."

"Yeah."

Gail was quiet because she really was guilty and she hated how Holly looked at her right now. It was the not looking at her that was even worse. Holly fiddled with her stethoscope, wrapping it back up to put in her pocket again. Gail watched her move and wanted to apologize for reasons she wasn't quite certain of at all.

"I heard about it on the radio. I wasn't there. I couldn't... I imagined you. I couldn't do anything," Holly sighed and shook her head. "I just had to wait... and see if you were okay."

"I'm sorry," Gail offered, watching her move slowly, watching her refuse to look at her. Gail stood sheepishly and removed her bag from the locker. She knew she should be sheepish. She knew she should be guilty and feel bad and she knew she shouldn't have done it. But in that moment, not one ounce of her being hesitated to do what had to be done, and she couldn't fully regret that. She could feel guilty for the consequences of her actions, but ultimately she would do them again, even if it meant seeing more of that hurt in Holly's voice and worry carried in the mountainous peaks on her forehead.

"Is that what happened to your brother? A big hero? Blazing into danger with no thought-"

"Holly," Gail turned to face her, hanging tiredly to the locker. It was a warning. It was a threat.

"It's not fair, Gail. It was stupid. You have two kids!"

"He didn't die because he was stupid or bold. He died because of me!" Gail raised her voice. She slammed the metal of her locker door so that it clanged and shattered the relative quiet of the locker room. Gail shook her head and looked at her hands spread out on the locker door, unmoving, unable to apologize for shutting it with such unnecessary force. "I didn't take a shot. There were three guys, and I didn't take the shot first. He was in it, and I didn't. It... He." Gail shut her mouth and inhaled as best she could. "It doesn't matter. I did what I did, and today I did what needed to be done."

When she was able to look at Holly, Gail found herself superior, she found herself the indignant one know and she understood the power it held. Now she was in the right, now she was the one that called the shots and set the tempo and made the moves. So she shouldered her bag and tried not to look defeated, but instead as if she was fine, and leave. She wasn't like her brother, and if she could have, she would have never met Holly and she would have been dead instead of him. That was obvious though she couldn't speak it.

"Gail, wait," Holly reached for her hand as she started to walk by. "I didn't... I'm sorry. I've just been... It was a long ride from the hospital, and I didn't know about you. No one could tell me if you were alright."

"I was good enough to not need a doctor," Gail assured her. The duffle bag fell to her elbow and then to the floor. Holly held her wrist, keeping her there. "I'm fine."

"I am worried about you, you idiot," Holly pulled her slightly so Gail was forced to face her. "I know we're not... whatever. I get it. But you do know," Holly lifted Gail's chin as the cop was too tired or too afraid to look up at her on her own. "You have to know that I care for you. I am quite fond of you. I like you, Peck. I honestly do. And it shouldn't be news. I respect what you want, but you do have to know that the situation does nothing to stop the way I feel about you."

Gail's eyes were cloudy and tempestuously still, calm and tired and ultimately an innate shade of frozen lake. Through her lashes she let Holly hold her chin and look at her as if she were something precious. It felt nice, and it made her throat a bit sticky and sore and afraid of swallowing. Holly tried to smile slightly, tried to apologize again without saying it, tried to tell Gail that she was on her side, tried to tell her... she wasn't exactly sure, but she knew she needed to tell her something earnestly and urgently.

"Do you want to get a drink?" Gail asked as Holly slowly realized she was still holding Gail's chin. She let go of her wrist and yet they didn't separate an inch.

"What?" Holly couldn't keep up with the cop.

"Next week, sometime. I don't know. The kids are going to be gone. I wanted to know if you wanted to get a drink. With me. Maybe have dinner. See a movie." Gail tried not to fidget or look unsure. She had run into a raging fire just a few hours ago. She could do it again right now, metaphorically. Maybe she would get into the habit and be able to tell Holly, without pause and perhaps as bravely as the paramedic had simply told her five minutes ago, how much she cared for her. Maybe Gail could be a bit braver and run through fire to get what she wanted, even if she was unsure of what it was or how to get it.

"Like a... a date?" Holly ventured cautiously. Gail lifted her bag and ducked her head. It was too difficult to maintain eye contact. It was torture and it was cruel and it was unusual.

"Whatever. Like a whatever," was all she could mumble, folding her hands into her bag strap, gripping it tightly.

"Okay," Holly agreed, brow furrowing once more at the sudden change in conversation and afternoon.

"Alright," Gail nodded. Neither smiled and neither was quite sure of what was happening. The conversation seemed to be happening through each of their lips and with the other person, though each individual felt as if they were watching it happen, as if they were not in control of the course of events at all. "I'll see you, then."

"Okay," Holly nodded again.

"Thanks for being worried," Gail offered, still clinging to the strap of her bag. "It kind of feels good to make someone this mad."

"You're welcome," Holly grimaced a bit. "I'm sorry about... you know."

"You're right though," Gail sighed. "I'm a Peck. I'm sure I'll make you a lot madder one day."

"So there's that to look forward to," Holly smiled slightly. Gail gave her a mischievous side smile.

"And drinks."

* * *

"He's going to want a cookie to go with it," Gail said triumphantly as she closed the story book.

"Again!" Charlie cheered, wiggling around beside Gail. With a yawn, the aunt shook her head and rested the book on her lap. "Just one more."

"You have to get some sleep. Tomorrow we're going to see grandma and you can't be tired," Gail informed her. "You know she will want to feed us and make all kind of plans for your visit."

"I want to stay with you," Charlie decided, squeezing Arnold into her arm tightly.

"You're going to stay with me forever, but for just a visit, Grandma wants to take you shopping and to the zoo and she hasn't seen you in three months. She is not even going to believe how big you are."

"Arnold can come?"

"But of course," Gail promised, slipping out of bed. She threw the book on the desk and went about pulling up Charlie's sheets and tucking her in tightly, like she had learned the little girl liked. "But for now, you sleep and rest."

"Can we have eggs for breakfast?"

"Sure," Gail promised. "I love you," she kissed the little girl's forehead. "Sweet dreams, lovebug."

"Goodnight, Auntie Gail. I love you, too."

With a little turn, the little girl snuggled into her sheets. Gail watched her adjust as she turned off the light and closed the door until there was just a crack of light left protruding across the bedroom floor.

"Hey, Max," Gail knocked gently and pushed on his half-closed door. "Lights out soon, bud. Long car ride tomorrow."

"Can't Grandma just come visit us here?" he asked from bed, setting his book over his stomach. Gail smiled. He looked like his father more and more. Even his mannerisms held a bit of Steve.

"She's going to bring you back," Gail explained entering his room. She strolled slowly.

"Leo said there is a fair next week, and me and Charlie want to go."

"You'll be back in time for it, I promise," the aunt assured him. She coughed a bit and rubbed her palm against her chest. Max watched her and then shook his head and rolled his eyes. Gail had to agree with him for some reason. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" She pulled out his chair by his desk. He sat up in bed a bit. "I realized today that maybe I hadn't explained things well enough, before."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like why me and your dad, and even your grandma and grandpa, why we are all cops," Gail explained, leaning forward a bit. Max ducked his head at the mention of his dad, finding something to not cry. "Today, I ran into a burning building. Flames were coming out of the roof and everything. There was a little boy, almost about Charlie's age, and I managed to get him out. We do things like that, like what your dad did, we do it because we are police officers, and we feel the need to do the right things, even if they are hard, even if they are stupid. Does that make sense?" Max looked at her with cold grey eyes. He was confused but thinking it over as well as he could. "There is no guarantees that we will be safe. But we try. It means that we live by a code that says that we would give our lives to make the world a better place. Do you understand?"

"Dad said we have to tell the truth and do the right thing. Like sometimes, there are laws, and sometimes you just know in your gut what to do."

"That's right," Gail nodded. "Do you know where your gut is?" She watched him point to his stomach. "That's half true. That's were you might get a feeling, but do you know what tells your gut what to do?" He shook his head. "Right here," she pointed to his chest. "Right there tells you what is right, no matter what. I just need you to know that I'm doing my best, and I know I am, because I feel good, right here." Gail pointed at her chest as well with her other hand. "I trust you to listen to your gut and I think we are doing really okay."

"Yeah, me too," Max agreed slowly. It wasn't eager, but it was thoughtful.

"I love you, Max. I'd do anything for you."

"I know," he agreed more quickly. "I know, I know, Aunt Gail."

"Good," she smiled and pinched at his jaw before he swatted her away. "I want light out in fifteen minutes. You have to be rested if I'm going to let you drive us to the city tomorrow."

"I can't drive," Max shook his head as Gail stood. She paused her movements and snapped her head back to him, betrayed look and all.

"What!? Since when?"

"I can never drive," he smiled. "I'm not old enough."

"Not old enough? I thought you were like forty-one by now."

"I'm eight, Aunt Gail."

"Well, crap."

"I love you," Max said as Gail smiled at him and reached the door.

"I love you, too."


	6. The Washer and the Dryer

_Then let the river in-  
we might drift a ways,  
but we'll find our way again._

Holly had a weakness. She didn't count her sweet tooth as a total flaw because she enjoyed running and swimming and biking through the trails behind her property to offset it. She wouldn't count her inability to have a full conversation with her mother because as far as she was concerned there wasn't much wrong with how their relationship functioned. She couldn't even count her knack for using humour and jokes as a coping method for pretty much anything that came up in her life because she figured it was better than smoking. Flaws were flaws, but what she was learning was that she had a weakness, pure and simple. A complete lack of character when it came to certain things.

The weakness was not something she could change with a change in diet, or by picking up the phone, or growing up. No, Holly realized, laying stretched out upon the lumpy sofa in the EMT bungalow and staring at the ceiling, true weakness was something she could not change, only hope to live with and recognize and defeat from the inside. But Holly did recognize it as weakness. There was no other way to describe a feeling that somehow seemed to take over her body and make her do whatever was asked of her. She was weak and she didn't like it because, unfortunately, like her sweet tooth or bad habits, it could not be fixed in one discernible lifestyle change. Her weakness went deep.

With a heavy sigh and adjustment, Hank stretched out beside her against the couch, rolling on the floor so Holly's absent fingers stroked under his neck. She continued her gentle movements and re-crossed her legs as her brain churned and churned and churned quite slowly in its tank. Hank had started her quest to understand her weakness. Hank and the last few days that the other puppy of her life had been missing.

Four years ago, Holly found herself in a similar situation. Freshly heartbroken and sleeping on the horrible couch in her new living room, she stared at the ceiling and listened to the loud noises of a forest at night. She didn't have furniture, she barely had belongings and her boxes only filled one room, but she was there and she was hiding from her mother and she felt safe where her father had wanted to be. Heartbroken and alone, she went to the pound the next morning and found a puppy that had paws the size of her palm and tripped over his long, gawky legs. Returned three times already, Holly couldn't pass up the hopeless case. Those big, sad eyes and floppy tongue and lopsided ears were her weakness. That damn helpless, discarded, ridiculous dog became her family.

She wanted to think of it as weakness, but her constant falling for hopeless cases was one of the most endearing parts of her. She fought it and told her not to do it anymore, but the eyes and the ears and the package broke her heart and she wanted to fix it. Holly had a weakness for discarded things, and then Gail showed up, sad eyes and floppy ears, and she left Holly on the couch, staring at the ceiling once more, trying to work her way around it.

"So you're going to be useless again today?" Chris walked by the couch and pushed Holly's forehead gently.

Chris had been her second case of puppy dog eyes when she moved there. He was nursing a break up as well, and he was unsure of what to be after it. Both came up together and both tried to do something to be happy.

"I'm pensive, Chris," she informed him, readjusting her head. Hank rolled over and ignored her ands, lifting his body to trot behind Chris into the kitchen.

"You're being ridiculous," he argued. "I haven't gotten any help from you and you've barely moved."

"I'm thinking," she clarified while he rummaged through the fridge.

"Just go over there already," he huffed. "Go get laid, go get drunk, go forget about her, just... do something."

"It's delicate," Holly sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temple. "You know the situation. I can't just... I don't know." She explained with her eyes closed and hands in the air above her, waving it away, as if it would work, as if she could forget about the thoughts in her head.

Holly liked Gail. She liked her earnest, puppy dog eyes, and her secret hopefulness despite all signs pointing to other things. Someone had to be insanely hopeful to think that they could handle two kids and a dead brother. She liked Gail's messy hair that stuck up with a cowlick when she wiped sweat from her forehead. She liked that she was so sassy and smart and sarcastic and witty and kept Holly in line. She liked her lips and her chin and her hips. She liked all parts of her. She was smitten. She was weak and she was smitten.

And she was trying not to be.

But she failed as her weakness would facilitate. She parked herself on the couch and stared at the roof and crossed and crossed and recrossed her fingers and arms and legs, hoping to figure out some sort of plan to overcome this weakness, to build up a tolerance. She had assumed that being around Gail would help with that. But it inadvertently just made her want to kiss her more. And that was bad. That was bad because Gail had a lot on her plate and didn't have time to be ravaged on the back porch. Holly crossed her legs again.

"What about that doctor you knew from school," Chris offered, picking at a plate he grabbed from the fridge. "She was hot and she was all over you last week when we did that transfer."

"Meh," Holly shrugged and sighed.

"You saw that bartender last weekend, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but she's... she didn't know that the _Three __Musketeers_ was a book. I mean... what can I do with that?"

"You didn't seem to mind in the back of your truck."

Holly shook her head and humphed a bit harder, trying to forget it. She attempted to make Gail a non-factor, but she only succeeded in making herself want the blonde cop even more, if that was possible. It didn't help when Gail had an adorable niece with curly hair and dimples and uneven pig tails that liked to be on Holly's shoulders during hikes. And it didn't help that Holly was able to play catch with her nephew and talk about sports. It didn't even help that Gail looked phenomenal in those jeans, that one pair with the paint smear up one leg and the hole in the back pocket and side of the knee, the ones she could barely keep up and rolled up to her knee, the ones she took off and jumped into the lake after they fell in a pile on the dirt. It didn't help at all that Holly remembered the moonlight on her pale skin and tried to look to the sky to forget it, to no avail. Nothing helped at all. She was weak and she was smitten.

But she knew better. Deep down she knew better than to push. She knew better than to invest herself in such a case. But those damn puppy eyes and floppy ears that Gail sported at night on the porch, and the moment after Holly kissed her, and all of the time when she let the world in for a second and showed a few cracks from her present situation and the happiness she was after. Those damn eyes.

"You got it bad," Chris observed between chewing and swallowing his large bite. Holly reached beneath her head and pulled the pillow out to smother herself. With a loud groan she shook her head hopelessly.

"She asked me out, and I haven't heard from her. I don't know what to do," she asked, red faced and meek. "Well, not technically a date. A _whatever_."

Holly's weakness was only magnified when Gail made Holly feel like she was important and big and awesome. Holly hadn't felt as... human? or perhaps the word was alive, in a long time. And then Gail appeared, wagging tail and all.

"Listen, put your big girl pants on, and go get the damn thing done," Chris informed her. "Life is short and time is ticking and if I have to watch you mope for another day I'm going to lose my mind."

"Geeze," Holly frowned and looked at him as she sat up. "Kind of harsh, Chris."

"I'm sorry, but you're both like ridiculous and stubborn and I have twenty bucks that you can seal the deal by Thursday. Forty if it's by Tuesday. And the deadline is getting closer."

"Really?" Holly crossed her arms and cocked her head in a way that Chris knew he was in trouble.

"I guess I overestimated your skills," he shrugged and tossed back at her. "I thought I had money in the bank that you would make a move."

"I have..." she shook her head while he retreated to the fridge, his capacity for girl talk dwindling. "I've kissed her."

"You like her, you tell her, you get her. Those are the three steps you taught me," he repeated. "Go get her."

"It's not that simple."

"It's always that simple," Chris shook his head, popping a few candies into his mouth.

Holly closed her mouth after being unable to think of an argument. Instead she just stewed on the couch as her partner disappeared into the garage. She thought her way out of it, already pensive and now a bit angry. She thought her self in circles until she came to the conclusion that it was up to Gail and she couldn't push. And if that meant taking the long way home to avoid that ridiculous looking mailbox, barely propped up despite Gail's best attempts, then that was what it meant.

With a sigh, she tilted her head back on the couch. She'd never liked someone this much; at least not for a long while. It was almost foreign.

"What the hell am I doing?" she asked the sky with her eyes closed.

* * *

The old garage was not much of a garage at all. Filled to the bare rafters with old trunks, an old lawnmower, rusty bikes with broken chains, ancient boxes that crumbled like dust when touched, it was more of an abandoned museum. But to Gail it was a task that would distract her from missing the kids and being busy all of the time. Back from the city for just under two days, Gail was already bored and lonely and surrounded by the companionship of her thoughts. It was a terrible place to be.

And so she watched the rain clouds gather and her eyes fell upon the garage. With a decided nod, she hitched up her sleeves and wrestled open the doors. She was certain that there were things of hers in there, and more importantly, as she seemed to do constantly, there had to be traces of Steve. It seemed to feel like she was looking harder and harder for him more recently, as if he wasn't a film atop every interaction, but instead further away, more removed. She did not like it and she hated herself for it.

And so she let the thunder clash as she clicked the old single light bulb in the storage locker of a garage, and started to open boxes. She sifted through dust and dirt and found herself re-finding important parts of herself and her brother and the house. But the roof leaked and the windows were frozen and the garage was not the best place to do any sort of work.

Gail was almost certain it was lopsided, to boot.

But she continued to work because she found more tapes and she found another radio, and she found new batteries in the house and started to listen to songs with Steve and her's childish voices recorded in between. It took her breath away sometimes as she found a box of sweaters.

Tires splashing against the loose gravel made her wipe her cheek and bury herself deeper into the bottom of a box, sorting old books. The sound of the door slamming told her it was Holly without looking. Gail memorized that kind of thing. She memorized a lot when it came to the paramedic. Accidentally.

"You made it back, then?" Holly observed, walking into the mouth of the garage.

"A few hours ago," Gail offered. She only looked up slightly to see the tall frame of the paramedic, slightly damp and running her hand through her messy, rain-wet hair. It put a knot in her throat. "I got bored already."

"You miss the kids?" Holly asked, casually perusing the stacks. She knew why she was there. Gail knew why she was there. She had said things, she had grown a backbone and asked her on a _whatever_, and Gail had replayed it in her head and beat herself raw already for it.

"I do," Gail agreed, holding up a sweater. It was green and horrible and itchy. "But I have found some lovely additions to my wardrobe."

"Man, that is... something," Holly smiled at her. They shared a grin before becoming aware of themselves and ducking their heads for a moment. "Do you need a hand?"

"If you're offering," Gail smiled at her dreamily. That part Holly imagined, or so she told herself.

With a resigned nod, Holly tucked her keys into her pocket and moved through the piles to meet Gail along the side of the garage. The path was littered in 'keeps' and 'toss' and was narrow. But gradually they fell into their rhythm, into their joking and happy state that seemed to create a bubble about them when they were together. In the humid garage, they worked and Holly flipped through books, making fun of their topics, and Gail held up odds and ends that had been deposited throughout the past sixty years and various generations. It was easy, and it was what they both wanted more than anything.

"You asked me out," Holly said, elbow deep into a box of old tupperware.

"Yeah," Gail nodded, rummaging through old files of papers. She furrowed her brow and worked harder.

"Did you mean to?"

"Yeah."

Both stopped their work though refused to turn towards the other.

"You have two kids," Holly sighed, nodding to herself to steel her backbone now. She refused to spend another day on the couch wondering about what if's.

"Yeah, still not sure how that happened," Gail tried, turning now. She met Holly's look until the brunette turned around as well. Between the boxes of fossilized arts and crafts and pots and pans, the two stood like anachronistic relics, stuck and unsure. Gail had meant it to lighten the moment that she expected to come, but it did nothing but fall flat into the pile of old rags on the floor.

"I'm okay with it," Holly said, hopeful and sincere. "It doesn't bother me. I get it. I think, I just... we do this thing, and I don't know how much longer I can pretend not to want to kiss you." Gail felt a blush spread from the tips of her ears into her neck.

"For now, can we just pretend that I don't?" Gail asked. Holly watched her eyebrows furrow and her eyes come upon a clarity that made the light blue and nearly grey become a foggy morning rolling between the ridges of the mountains. "Can't I just be a girl you just met? Can't I not have kids, or a dead brother, or a guilty conscious, or basically can't I not be me? Or rather, the me that is now. Can't I be the me before it all? Just for a few days."

"I'm quite fond of who you are now," Holly reminded her.

"For just a bit can't I be someone who does things that are foolish and doesn't care about repercussions?" Gail ignored her.

"I was thinking of a date, but if you're talking about a tattoo or pierc-"

Holly was stopped from a premature ramble with Gail's hand behind her neck pulling her down to meet her lips. It was sudden and Gail hadn't meant to do it, but she did and she secretly hadn't thought of doing anything else since the porch the first time Holly kissed her. She wasn't sure why she couldn't, except that she had two kids now who watched her and listened to her and she wasn't sure how to be someone who kissed Holly and someone who packed lunches and made animal noises during storytime. She was afraid of one side of her ruining the other.

But in this moment, she allowed herself to have the fantasy and she was the bold, brash Gail from before she ever met Holly, and she kissed her and pushed her body against her and asked her to just try this, for a moment, with her. To just be very alive in the old garage and be okay with the fact that she wasn't sure how to deal with the consequences of the action, but to just enjoy it for what it was.

"I have two kids and I want to kiss you a lot."

"Okay," Holly opened her eyes slowly, fluttering lids and puffy lips wanting more, leaning forward for more of Gail.

"I'm a mess."

"Yeah," Holly nodded, succeeding in kissing her again. This time Holly rooted her hands on the blonde's hips and kissed so she would forget her worries.

"I am emotionally stunted," Gail pulled away, feeling as if a disclaimer was needed.

"I am a weak, weak woman," Holly grinned, recapturing her lips. Gail smiled with her and let herself be kissed. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

By the time they reached the back porch, the rain was falling in droves. The rain was falling in buckets and pails and cups and quarts and tubs and pitchers and was in no way eager to stop. It was that glorious type of rain that falls simply straight, simply towards the ground, faster than most, in huge globs of shower-like streams. Their feet pounded through puddles that formed rapidly, through streams that appeared and ran into the lake like naked kids on the first day of summer, not worried about the temperature or depth that waited at the destination.

By the time they reached the porch, they were soaked to the bone, straight through their clothes, straight through their skin, straight through their souls, a soaked that only comes with the rain, that only comes when the air is filled with gallons and gallons and gallons of water, a soaked that only comes when fully clothed and unaware of the weather report.

By the time the screen door slammed, the raindrops were already playing their own music against every surface, drumming like anxious fingers upon leaves and branches and roofs and other puddles. Falling through the air itself seemed to make a noise, seemed to make a whirring or a murmur that whispered little apologies with each drip and drop and sigh.

By the time Gail attempted to catch her breath, she was smiling and shivering and almost laughing at the absurdity of the afternoon. Of course she should not have expected it to go off smoothly, but this… this storm, this biblically proportioned joke, it was too good for her not to appreciate.

"You planned that, didn't you?" Holly asked, watching the blonde put her hands over her head to catch her breath.

"I couldn't have timed it better if I actually tried," the cop grinned, chest and shoulders moving to accommodate both her laugh and her need to breathe.

"This must be the storm that Chris was worrying about," Holly observed, wringing out the bottom of her shirt as best she could.

"Good thing this isn't a date," Gail offered, tossing her hair about her head. Holly just rolled her eyes in response. "Do you want to... come in, I guess? I can dry you up since I got you all wet."

"Cute, Peck," Holly gave her a sour look at her double entendre. Gail just smirked, still proud of herself from earlier, she opened the back door and kicked off her shoes before entering the house. She was nearly certain that Holly debated entering for a second. She knew what it could mean; Gail knew what it could mean.

But they made out in the garage, and they sat on a pile of sweaters and looked through Gail's tapes and it was a nice afternoon that Gail didn't want to end because if it did she might change her mind and put of the defences and not let Holly in again after a night of better judgement.

"Here," the cop dug through the cupboard to find a beach towel to hand to the shivering paramedic. With a flourish and no thought to her own chattering teeth, Gail swung it around Holly's arms.

"So chivalrous," Holly smiled, crossing her arms for warmth and allowing Gail to rub her through the towel. She earned just a smile, but mostly complete concentration was left imprinted on the blonde's face. She focused on not focusing on Holly's skin and the prickle of it, she tried not to focus on how her shirt clung to her body, she did her best to squelch it all. "You're shaking," Holly observed after a minute of being warm and regaining some faculties.

Grabbing the towel on the washer, she began to do the same treatment to Gail. With a smile she ruffled the blonde's hair, gently wiping away her forehead, her cheeks, her ears, her neck. All the while, Gail continued to focus at the task of warmth as opposed to her sneaky, curious fingers.

Gail hadn't meant to do it. In fact, she had meant to do it, but she had meant to stop herself more. Perhaps it was the rain. Gail could easily blame the weather, though that wasn't entirely accurate. It certainly didn't hurt though. It was the way Holly's smile seemed to drip with a happiness that was unassuming and fiercely alive. It was the way the rain hung from her chin and dripped from the ends of her hair as she grinned and ran her hand through it absently. It was the goose flesh that appeared under the droplets on her arms and neck. It was the smile that asked her what was next and told her that it didn't matter because she was ready for anything and everything and whatever Gail could throw at her, she was going to swing at because that was who she was and that was important.

Finding themselves in the small mud room, the air became thick with the rain on their skin and the moisture collected on the towels. Gail was certain it would evaporate from the blush that boiled in her blood. She watched Holly swallow and attempt to maneuver around her. She watched her avert her eyes and clear her throat. But Gail could only move to do one thing, though she hadn't meant to do it.

For a split second, Gail stuttered and stalled and stared at Holly's lips. She appreciated how Holly must have felt the first time she kissed her. This was the first time she would kiss Holly and she gave herself that second to stop. But the room smelled like rain and Holly's skin, and her clothes were smothering her and dripping and freezing while muggily hugging her chest. It was all too much, and Gail knew that. It had always been too much, and she knew that now, too.

But she kissed her anyway.

When she kissed Holly, Gail was certain that time hadn't stood still like the storybooks all claimed. She was certain it did not stop the world from spinning as all of the movies would have had her believe. She was positive that it was unlike any other kiss she had experienced. Instead, the world sped up and ages passed. The cosmic pistol of the universe fired and the planets and galaxies and more importantly Holly's hands were off to the races.

Perhaps it was the rain that fed their skin, or perhaps it was the clothes that clung to them and were in need of being removed. Perhaps it was an entire summer of a firework fuse that had been lit weeks ago and finally reached its destination. Perhaps none of it mattered except that Gail kissed her and the world didn't implode when she did. It was not much, but it was enough.

The cold edge of the washing machine pressed into Gail's back as Holly pushed against her harder. She felt Holly's hands on her cheeks, she felt her hips on her hips, she felt her teeth on her lip.

By the time Holly's lips reached Gail's neck, the blonde realized that once the cosmos and the planets and the galaxies were spinning, it was impossible to make them stop. And even if she could make Holly's lips stop, or if she could make her hands still, she did not want anything less in the world. Rooting her hands in Holly's hair, Gail tilted her neck and gave her more skin. She shamelessly felt Holly's hips push harder against her own.

"Don't," Gail swallowed as Holly pulled away slightly. She kissed her again. She wasn't sure what made her do it. She pushed against the paramedic until her hip met the edge of the dryer.

Holly felt Gail's hands on her hips, on the damp skin beneath her damp shirt. She felt her lips and her tongue and she felt the need for more; more of her lips and hands and her entirely.

"I need you." Holly's words were humid upon Gail's skin. She felt them slither along her neck and ear.

The shirts came first, both frozen and steaming at the same time. They fell onto the floor with splashes. Gail couldn't stop her hands from exploring the contours of Holly's stomach, of her ribs, of her chest. She loved the way the muscles fluttered and clenched under her nails and fingertips.

"Please," Gail whispered, holding Holly's head to her collar bone as it kissed lower.

Like a dam that had been cracked and was finally ready to give, like a punch that had been wound up for an entire round, like a gun the instant the trigger is pulled, Holly fell upon her with all of her might.

Gail felt Holly's hands slip down her hips and hook under her thighs, she felt the muscles of her shoulders strain and tighten the same time she felt herself being placed upon the top of the washing machine.

Holly's eyes were dilated and full of ideas when they looked at Gail. Hungrily, Gail's lips fell upon the paramedic's once more, her tongue moving and wanting. So distracted was Gail with Holly's lips, with her noises, with her newly exposed skin, that she did not register her shorts being unbottoned.

"Fuck," Gail hissed, dropping her head slightly as she felt Holly's fingers now. She wasn't sure how long it'd been, but she suddenly remembered in vivid detail all that she was missing.

Holly was certain that the curse had never sounded as good as when it came from a wanting Gail's gasp. She wanted to move mountains to get it again, though she was certain she didn't have to move much to earn it once more.

Gail could do nothing but feel her hips move with Holly's hand. She could do nothing but hold on to Holly's shoulders as the brunette moved her warm lips to her chest, feeling the icy skin beneath. Hot lips burned a trail across Gail's chest until a swirling tongue captured a pale rosy nipple. Gail bit her lips and tried to swallow her groan, but the paramedic just pushed her harder.

Her shorts came next. Gail only registered the loss as the momentary loss of Holly's dextrous digits.

"Fucking fuck," Gail moaned as she was rewarded for her patience with an equally torturous tongue. Holly's fingers dug into Gail's thighs as Gail's fingers rooted in the brunette's hair, keeping her there, fighting against her as her stomach constricted and twisted and she swore she forgot her own name. Holly fought her back and pushed her harder and tasted her, licking up every inch and sucking and gulping until Gail was a mess of useless bones and weak muscles.

Holly hummed against Gail as she clenched about her. She grinned as Gail's stomach flinched and flickered with constricting muscles. She slowly rose, victorious and conquering as she kissed the blonde's tired body.

"Fuck," Gail sighed, laughing as her hand covered her face and she laughed into it, embarrassed and alarmed. "That was much needed." She couldn't stop laughing until Holly joined her as well.

With a similar mischievous grin that Holly saw in a picture in the garage, Gail peaked out from behind her hand, still with cheeks blushing and chest flushed and heaving from both laughter and orgasm.

"Took you long enough," Holly grinned, rolling her eyes.

"Shall we break in the dryer next?"


	7. The Thunder and the Lightning

_As long as we're going down,  
__baby you should stick around._

The lightning was lazy. Perhaps it was the late hour or the fact that the air was overwhelmingly full sky of rain and steam and fog from the ongoing storm, or perhaps it was simply a lazy type of lightning, tired from existing at all. No matter. It still took its time worming through the sky, as if the heat had made it uninterested in getting anywhere in any particular hurry. Thick and hazy, the warmth of summer hung heavy in the air in a way that even the cool stream of raindrops could not soothe away the burn of the season between the trees. And the lightning was lazy and languid and moved through the sky, en pointe, dipping and swaying and moving to the symphony that was the thunderstorm.

The steam was sleepy, still. Rising up from the puddles and the very dirt itself, as if compounded by the sighs of the damp, wet bark of the heavy, exhausted and shivering trees, it rose up and formed yet another layer of clouds in the air, high up and smothering, it filtered the raindrops before they pelted the earth. So hot and muggy was the air, that the steam, sleepy and tired as it was from the late hour, seemed a representation of a smothering quilt atop the forest and houses and town and world itself. It either must have covered the entire world or isolated this one so much that every inhabitant felt exceedingly singular and alone. But weather does that accidentally and through no fault of its own. The lazy lightning and the sleepy cloud of steam existed for themselves and with no regards to the sopping wet town beneath.

The entire night seemed so lazy, so unproductive, so removed from reality that it was shielded by a storm that practically washed away civilization. The trees were drenched and shivering despite the humidity. Puddles grew into streams which grew into lakes of their own, until the very land was dotted with big, shallow lakes in every crevice and dip. The rain came in through the screen around the porch, and it dripped from the gutters that needed to be cleaned. It was a lonely, dark world beneath this storm.

With the power finally giving up to the flood and the crashing of heavy limbs into power lines across the county, the lazy lightning was almost the only real light that lit the living room. That and the handful of candles that Gail was able to find, though they were near the ends of the wicks. But as night fell onto the forest with a large clash of thunder, and as the lake was steadily added to for hours and hours until the shore shrunk and the tide rose higher than high, light disappeared except for lazy light sources.

Gail listened to the steady drip of rain water from the open window. There was not much of a breeze, but the air outside was cooler than the house, and without power or even fans, the stale of the house mingled only slightly with the world outside. But the steady drip, drip, drip, drip of droplets into a small collection on the window sill beat much more steady than Holly's heartbeat, which itself thudded and ticked and slowed after racing.

"Goodness," Gail sighed, almost sleepily rubbing her cheek against the bare skin of Holly's sternum. Only a small murmur vibrated Holly's chest in response. Gail grinned and ducked her head into the paramedics neck, trailing her nose close to her collarbone, inhaling the smell of distant dried raindrops that hung there.

Holly smelled like her now, or maybe she smelled like Holly. Together they made a blended smell of both of their skins upon the other. Gail just knew that she was not the same now, not with Holly's fingerprints and smudges and lingering perfume all over her own body. With her cheek pressed against Holly's skin, Gail wanted to feel how her skin felt against every part of the girl. They had succeeded in creating a parallel universe, a world in which they could disappear and for once, Gail was not worried about tomorrow. She was only concerned with giving in to whatever was happening and the feeling of Holly's curses on her shoulders and her hands in her hair and somehow getting more and more of it.

Softer than petals and prayer and air, Holly ran her fingertips along the protrusions of Gail's back. Down through the valleys of her ribs from the peaks of her alpine capped spine, Holly toured the stretches blindly until they moved to her thighs. Gail curled into the hands, she closed her eyes and disappeared only to be outlined by the parameters of Holly's fingers. Their skin was hot and blushing. Between them, the flush and heat rivalled that of the humidity outside, and to them caused lightning that raged across the plains of their own bodies.

"Oh man. That's embarrassing," Holly groaned as her stomach grumbled in protest against the lack of attention due to more pressing tasks at hand. Gail giggled into her jaw. She kissed below her ear, she kissed along her jaw bone, slow and precise and haphazard. Holly enjoyed the feeling of Gail's hands as they cupped at her jaw and neck and hair, keeping her sandwiched between stern palms and warm lips.

"I suppose it's been a while since you've been fed and watered," Gail observed, finally planting her hands on either side of Holly's head. Slowly she dipped her head and kissed the girl beneath her. It was barely there and excruciatingly sweet in its simplicity. My different than the needy, open-mouthed kisses of before, of just minutes ago. But that was Gail. Like spinning a coin, and not knowing which side would come up next. As they laid there, Holly was peppered in sweet, tiny kisses. From her eyebrows to her neck to her throat to the corner of her mouth to her eyelids to her forehead to her shoulders, tiny kisses appeared, slow and dangerous. Until they became needy kisses.

When Gail sat up atop her, Holly adjusted her hips, watching Gail's move in response. Gail ran her fingers along Holly's ribs now, along her stomach, until they came to rest between her ribs, lacing there and keeping her so she was sitting atop her.

"I quite like this view," Holly grinned, fighting against the darkness and flickering candle flames to see Gail's pale skin in the powerless evening. Gail just shook her head and grinned before trying to fix her messy hair. She was bashful in the dark and storm. Lightning filtered through the curtains and underneath the open window, streaking across her stomach. Gail watched Holly's fingers slip to her hips and into her ribs where her thumbs ran along the underside of her breast. She pushed into her just a bit more. She did that a lot, pushed into Holly's hands. "You are especially pretty after you lay on top of me naked."

"Only then?" Gail asked, cocking her head. "Not before that?" It was barely lit, but she could see the small smile on Holly's lips and perhaps, even, a blush.

Head still groggy from the activities of the past few hours and the grumbling in her tummy, Holly just shook her head slightly and willed her cheeks not to burn, she willed her smile not to give her away. Instead she moved her hands higher as Gail pushed into her.

"I like learning what I can do to you," Holly explained, staring at her hands as they moved and cupped Gail, as she played at her nipple and slid another hand to her hip. She watched Gail's eyes flutter shut and her hips dig into her stomach. She felt her lungs inhale and hold and her heart beat louder. Holly wanted to be a raindrop falling from Gail's ear, clear down her neck, settling in the pool of her collarbone before making its way down her chest, down her sternum, down her ribs and into the reservoir upon her belly button. And she would stay there, too, for as long as possible before slipping even further. In a past life, perhaps Holly had been that raindrop, if she had been lucky.

"I'd say we both need this," Gail shivered and opened her eyes. Holly smiled and nodded. "And I suppose I could find us some food."

The truth of it was that Gail was almost afraid to leave the floor of the living room that they had claimed as their own little fort. It started on the couch. It started months ago on her front porch. It started on the dryer until it moved into the kitchen and then it started against the counter. Until both were weak and tired and Gail found the couch and Holly found her again. And then they found the floor where they found each other again and again and they whispered and giggled and exchanged 'can't believe we just's' before even realizing that the power was out.

"That might be polite," Holly said, rubbing her own stomach. She liked the way Gail looked at her, despite how small she felt under her gaze. It was important though. An important type of small, as if she could be viewed all at once in just one look, seen wholly under just a single glance. That was important and she was terrified.

"Are you... I mean, you could. If you want. Be here," Gail sighed and shook her head. "Are you staying?"

"Well it's probably near five in the morning and my clothes are still wet since you decided to use the dryer for other things..." Holly tucked her hands behind her head, cocky and proud of herself. The blonde atop her rolled her eyes and looked at her to be serious. Holly knew it had been hard enough for Gail to ask that. Now she was just teasing to tease. "I'm off today."

"Me too," Gail nodded quickly.

"We should talk about... this," Holly tilted her chin to point at the naked bodies. Gail sighed loudly.

"Do we have to?" she pouted exceedingly sad and grumbly. Talking about things was never fun, especially now when the alternative was simply being naked and not talking, which was one of Gail's strongest suits.

"Do you want to keep doing... you know...?"

Gail squinted in the darkness and against her own thoughts, seriously mulling it over. Holly shifted her hips noticeably beneath her and Gail realized how much she couldn't go without this anymore.

"You have to be out before the kids wake up," Gail said quickly and all business. "And they can't know you stay, if you stay. You can't spend time with them and then break your promises to them. My schedule is their schedule, and they need normalcy. So that means-"

"I meant like after a snack or something," Holly interrupted.

"Yeah, well. I just want it to be clear."

"The kids come first," Holly nodded. "I get it. I was thinking more like we would talk about how you were feeling about us..."

"I don't know if I'm good enough at taking care of them to have my own opinions," Gail shrugged. "Or even make decisions for myself."

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Aw no, come on," Gail huffed. Anxiously her hands traced Holly's stomach. "You know its complicated and I don't know how to do this."

"But you were doing to so well," Holly grinned. Gail inhaled.

"I like you. I think you're beautiful. And you're an asshole because you strut around the station in your stupid sexy uniform and it just sits right here," Gail moved her hands quickly and squeezed Holly's hips between her thighs. "And those damn shirts you wear and you even look sexy when you're sweaty from a call. And it is hard to look at you because I can't swallow, you know?" Gail was speaking quickly, and as much as Holly wanted to stop her, it was too good of a moment to stop completely. "And the kids love you already, which scares me more than how much I like having you around, which is a lot. And I think you're smart and you're funny and you're just a dash of damaged like us. So you are special. But I have to work so hard not to just serve up my head on silver platter for you because sometimes I know it would be so easy to just do that and fuck off with consequences. But the kids. I can't be heartbroken in bed if you break up with me. I can't tell them why you stopped coming around if anything happened. There are extenuating circumstances, but I've never once not known and appreciated how special you are."

The small smile on Holly's face faltered halfway through Gail's tirade. It was if all of the worries that stacked themselves behind her teeth came spilling forth at once, folded and shuffled together in an unorganized heap of tension. She watched the blonde swallow and her shoulder's slump and her eyes look towards the windows when lightning flashes, lackadaisically and ornery in the night.

"Slow and steady then," Holly tried. Gail refused to look at her, ashamed of her outburst and ramble. Holly ran her palms along the cop's thighs, she cupped her hips, spread her fingers and watched them cover and stretch to fill as much of themselves with Gail as they could. "I'm okay with that. I won't push you. I get it. But you are allowed to have what you want, even with the kids."

"Slow and steady," Gail nodded, watching her own fingers stretch and move to encompass as much of Holly as she could manage.

"I think you're kind of amazing, Gail Peck," Holly said, offering her smile now to put Gail at ease. "Just so you know." Gail was grateful it was dark and a candle burned itself out in the corner, so her blush was only felt beneath the edge of her skin.

"So what do we do now?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving, and I think we should eat. And probably after that stay naked and see how many times we can go at it before our bodies explode."

Gail's laughter started as a rumble and than emerged quiet as giggles, like a thunder clap that booms and then grumbles its way through the rolling clouds. She shook her head and leaned over once more so that she pressed her giggle against Holly's dimples and against her jaw and against her neck in an attempt to kiss her and thank her for just being her and here and alive and as weird as Gail was and as understanding as only a saint could be under these circumstances.

"This is quite a mess," Gail managed between laughter fits. It just made her laugh harder. Holly agreed and chuckled as she hugged the poor blonde to her chest.

"Your worth it, I think."

"You think?" Gail sat up slightly.

"Sex and starvation is quite a way to die," Holly smiled at her in the dark as another candle burned out.

* * *

The sun was disorienting. Soft and golden, it was not the harsh and brutal light of dawn. Nor did the faint noises that finally registered in her ears remind Gail of morning. Instead it was a different time of day completely. It could have been weeks later, for all she knew. Pulling herself up and nearly slapping herself with her sleeping arm, Gail squinted to find the clock on the television. _2:48_ it blinked and blinked and blinked until it imprinted on Gail's mind and she grunted, remembering the power outage.

With a huff she fell back down into the pile of blankets on the floor. Her neck hurt and her side was sore from sleeping on the floor with inadequate cushioning. Also sex. But that was slow to come back to her. Her brain still fuzzy from the rain and storm the night before, Gail dug her fingers into her eyes and pushed new galaxies into her brain to keep her centred. She growled and yawned at the sun in a quiet way that came from being still quite exhausted and mad at herself for being woken up at all.

But a movement beside her made her register the other body on the floor. And as it turned and stretched and adjusted to whatever it was dreaming, Gail remembered. She remembered swiftly and in a strange order, but she remembered nonetheless. That remembering led to realizations. One being that she had literally, sexually mauled Holly. Two being that Holly had done the same to her. Three being that it occurred with such frequency last night that Gail was wary to even try to move her legs.

The fourth realization was the second most important, with it being that Gail was still completely naked.

The fifth was the best, in her opinion Holly was still very naked as well, and still very much beside her.

With a triumphant grin, Gail tested her legs and turned over. The sheet hung low on Holly's hips and Gail was very grateful for that fact. The light gave her proper appreciation of the paramedic. Gail attempted to commit it to memory, commit this image to a recess of her brain that would remember it as if it were real, as if she could dream of it every night. With the hazy light of an apathetic sun slipping between the blinds, tiger-like stripes appeared across half of Holly's ribs, almost looking as if her skin had ribs. There was much to explore now with light as opposed to the half-assed explorations Gail did in the dark.

Two long, thing white lines of scar ran across Holly's skin between her ribs and her hips. Hesitantly Gail touched them now, quickly seeing if she woke the sleeping woman beside her with her curiosity. Gail had seen them before, at the river. And Charlie had asked what had happened because she was three and booboos were never so terrifying. But Holly avoided an answer and for the rest of the day was self-conscious of them, though never giving in completely and putting on a shirt. Gail touched them now, both one at a time and together, alternating and including as best she could, to feel the raised white flesh, to read it if she could, like braille, like words on a book much too complicated for her to understand.

Gently Gail kissed them. She was not sure why, except that she felt like they needed it. To kiss scarred flesh was almost sacred, to kiss scarred flesh was the most important thing she could do for another human being in the world. And Gail knew that, intuitively, though unsure how exactly she did.

Holly stretched slightly as Gail did, a sleepy smile appearing at the corner of her lips for just a second until she continued to drift once again into a dream. When she readjusted, Gail watched her bones move beneath her skin, watched her hips protrude and then slip away once more, much like dorsal fin on the water's edge, skimming and making itself known before disappearing to the deep. Gail reached in after it, running her fingertips along Holly's hips, along the edge and swell of the wave of her skin there. She leaned her head on her cheek and she was mesmerized by the flurry of goose flesh that erupted there and only there, as if Holly could respond to her despite her dreams.

Gail rode the wave of Holly's abdomen, she rode the ripple of the edge of the sheet, she hopped into the water of Holly's body. Her fingers stalled at the soft, orderly hairs peaking beneath the hem of the blanket. Gail took her time, mesmerizing even herself at the feeling of the patch under her hand. She stroked soft and gentle, still amazed at Holly entirely, still entrapped by even singular inches of her. Gail stroked slow and with curiosity until Holly's hips rolled and pushed at her hand.

As she retreated from move further south, Gail instead retreated north to explore the valleys and peaks of Holly's chest with only a momentary stop to circle her belly button.

"Mmm," Holly inhaled and swallowed. Gail didn't bother to notice her waking, but instead moved to the canyon between her ribs when she breathed. She felt Holly yawn when she placed her hand flat on her stomach. She felt her run her hands over her face and eyes and cheeks and into her hair to wake up. Gail continued her perilous quest despite the earthquakes of rattling bones and stretching and straining muscle-like crevices. "Have you been up long?"

Gail shook her head, afraid of her own voice. She was too concentrated upon memorizing the feeling of Holly's skin, of convincing herself that there was a difference in temperature where the skin sat and where the shadows fell. Holly smiled and sighed and watched Gail focus.

It was the soft skin of her breast, of her chest, of her sternum, of her collar bones that really amazing Gail. It was the way her lungs stopped, mid breath, when Gail's fingertips circled the infinite delicateness of her nipple. How Holly seemed to purr and hum sadly when Gail moved to another part of her. How she hitched again when Gail reached the other, to compare in her notes.

"Gail," Holly murmured. Her legs shifted and squeezed. Slowly Gail shifted her leg to cover hers, to slip between hers to still her, so her exploration could continue. She needed an entire atlas of Holly's body. She needed it.

But Gail continued despite her name. Perhaps even because of it. And when she met Holly's eyes she knew that she was in trouble. Holly chewed at the inside of her lip to keep still, to keep quiet. Gail watched her cover her mouth with the back of her hand as she stretched and presented more skin for Gail to conquer. Her hair was messy and piled along the pseudo pillows they'd crafted last night. The blanket was almost non-existent.

This moment was almost over, and Gail needed to stretch it. She needed to make it last forever. She needed to be the dawn before it broke, she needed to keep the sun contained so this moment could remain here, forever, so they never grew up and time never moved forward and she could be a professional explorer.

But Gail was the dawn, and she broke atop the mountains of Holly's body violently and in full force. So sudden and so magnanimous was the dawn that from nothing, time seemed to expand out in various directions simultaneously.

She cracked upon the sky when she shifted her hips to Holly's hips. She prowled atop her and took her nipple into her mouth and pushed her thigh between her thighs and she watched Holly watch it happen and then close her eyes as one does at the sun to feel it upon their skin. Gail was like the sun for a moment because she could not be stopped, she could not be reasoned with at all. She had to do what was required of her and that was to stretch the feeling of last night into this morning, to take what had become hers, to re-conquer it, to claim it once again incase Holly had forgotten or incase she had a doubt.

But Holly was never one to be conquered easily. She was never one to go willingly. She was never one to be ripped off and denied her fair chance to stake her claim, and she pushed at Gail until she was atop the blonde and she had broken her hold on her body, though she still behaved needy and wanting. She dug her hips into Gail's stomach and she reached the blonde's lips. She earned a growl her a whimper or perhaps all of the above. Regardless, she earned a noise that made her feel dirty in the best kind of ways.

As much as she wanted to push her back, to take her as she had planned, Gail couldn't think straight with the onslaught of Holly's lips and fingers and hands. It was not as it had been the night before. They remembered things about the other, remembered how they moved, how they danced, how certain licks and bites and touches earned certain rewards. There was more mastery, more perfection, there was more yearning and fighting and pulling upon each other to stay, to come back, to say things that didn't have words.

"Oh God," Holly moaned into Gail's neck, hot and heavy, scalding and burning and glorious against her skin, as her body curled with Gail's fingers. She caught herself with her hands on the floor, but she nearly fell and collapsed into Gail when those fingers finally moved. Gail moved her other hand to kiss her, to push her hair away and to kiss her.

Gail was certain she would memorize this moment. She was positive that it had to be burned into her brain. Because Holly in the afternoon light, naked and moving atop her, on her, with her, hair pushed back and palms pushing into Gail's ribs to find some sort of balance while the cop tried to push her further than ever, it was the most glorious sight Gail could imagine. Holly lost the battle.

"Gail," she whimpered, grinding into the blonde.

"Yes?" Gail asked, stalling and earning a glare.

Holly leaned forward again as Gail moved once more. She made incoherent noises and lost her ability to think. But her lips moved to suck on Gail's neck between noises, and her teeth nipped at her shoulder while her fingernails rain gently over Gail's chest, earning her own little noises.

An entire day passed and much like the sun set, Holly came quickly and suddenly until she disappeared completely. Her body laid weak upon Gail's chest as her own seemed to move and gasp on its own. Gail stayed still to feel the aftershocks, to feel Holly hold her inside of her.

"Jesus Christ," Holly shook her head and lifted it slightly. "Ahh," she growled and hissed as Gail moved her fingers. "Fuck," she swallowed and ran her hand through her hair, still unable to form many, if any, intelligible words.

"We're still going to try this, right?" Gail asked, verbalizing what she was trying to get an answer to through coercion.

"You and me?" Holly asked, dumb and shaking her head.

"Yeah."

"Well, I mean, it's not like I'm attracted to you. And it's not like we've spent an entire day naked together. So probably not," Holly shrugged. "I'm sure you understand. You do nothing sexually for me."

"Ah, yeah, I get it," Gail nodded and smiled.

"We had a good run," Holly offered, sitting up a bit and meeting Gail's eyes. She would never tell her that she had fallen into a sex-induced love with her right there. Those were violent and terrible kinds, often confused with anything else. Holly ignored it.

"Well, I think we know that you just didn't give it your all."

"What would you score me?"

'Probably about a seven or something. But you know, you tried," Gail tried to console her. Holly balked.

"You win some, you lose some."

"Yeah."

They were quiet and smiling, separate and together.

"You know, I got nothing else going on, so we could try this if you really wanted. I mean, no pressure or whatever," Holly shrugged again and tried to look cool.

"I'm in if you're in," Gail committed. Holly was growing her smile and it made Gail's grow as well.

"I'm in if you can learn to feed me properly."

"Seriously? After all of that?" Gail asked, breaking their routine. "You're worried about food after... _that_ performance?"

"I'm a simple girl, Peck," Holly shrugged. "Sex and candy. Sex and candy."

"God, what am I getting in to?" Gail shook her head and looked at the ceiling. She earned a laugh from Holly and smiled despite her honest words.

"Oh, I'll show you again, if you'd like," Holly offered with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

* * *

The world had nearly forgotten the storm. Sunshine erased the memories of the flooding and the power outage and everyone was simply grateful to be back to normal. For Gail the chirping in the trees and the overall goodwill that erupted from the hinges of the town made her grumble. She may have been the only person who did not tilt up their chin and welcome the sun at least once during the proceeding day with a sense of once again meeting someone they never knew they missed until they left.

But the town came to life after the storm left and the sun appeared. People came out of the woodwork like mice, filling the streets and restaurants and parks as if they hadn't seen daylight in years. It made Gail miss the storm, miss the quiet, miss the isolation that came with it.

"Someone looks like they're in a good mood," Holly observed, saddling up beside Gail at the counter in the kitchen of the station where the blonde had spread out the newspaper and was busy scowling at the world.

"Everyone is just so... happy," Gail shook her head, disgusted at the thought.

"It's terrible," Holly agreed, quite seriously before slipping a coffee towards Gail.

"She's been like this all morning," Traci rolled her eyes as she absently picked at her lunch. "I've never seen this much grumpiness."

"Must be exhausted to be so grouchy," Holly shrugged and sipped on her own.

"I'm right here. I can hear everything you're saying about me," Gail shook her head and absently sipped from her coffee.

"Well, on that note, I leave you to your partner," Holly smiled at Traci who just sighed and shook her head. "I should go check on Chris. Gail, I'll see you later for that thing you wanted me to pick up." With a tiny nudge, Holly rested her cheek on Gail's shoulder for just a second before retreating, the act unnoticed by anyone else. Despite herself, Gail smiled into her coffee cup.

"So why in the world are you so tired after your day off?" Traci looked up after Holly was gone and Gail had turned the page.

"Just... stuff. I don't know. Things," Gail shrugged dismissively. "Charlie couldn't sleep last night, and neither could I. The storm threw my sleep schedule off. I don't know. Stuff."

"Well, that was eloquent," Traci stared at the stuttering cop who refused to look up from her paper.

"I'm exhausted," Gail confessed. "It was a long day off."

"I would say so if you spent it entirely on top of some paramedic." Gail felt her blood freeze. It congealed right there under her skin and burned its way to the top. "It's about damn time. Though I was hoping it would make you a bit more pleasant to be around."

"Alright, well," Gail shook her head and absently watched Holly through the window that looked into the ambulance bay. "We'll see what happens."


	8. The Cat and the Tree

_She may contain the urge to run away,_  
_But hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks._

"I am so excited. Are you excited?" Gail spoke into the phone, shoulder hiked up and holding it to her ear as she reattached sheets to the bed. "I know, I know," she smiled and nodded, absently fluffing the pillows so the bed was perfectly made and constructed specifically for the tiny voice on the other end of the phone. "I will be here waiting. And then you can tell me absolutely everything, okay?... Okay, baby... I know..." Gail stalled and shook her head, adjusting the phone on her shoulder. She didn't even see the bed she'd made, her eyes were far away with the voice. "Put Grandma on, okay?... One more sleep, lovebug. I love you."

There was a commotion on the phone and Gail took it as a chance to look around the room once more and make sure everything was clean and ready for Charlie to come back and tear apart. Gail had neglected her duties as guardian the entire time the kids were with her mother, and now she was running ragged buying groceries, washing sheets, and basically doing all of the chores that Holly had distracted her from accomplishing.

It was Holly and the weather. The past week flew by quickly in a batch of cloudless summer days that seemed to squeeze every ounce of golden, hazy sunshine through the trees and branches and until the night was nearly over, as well as another day of rain that came and went and came and went again. It was long nights in Gail's bed, and movies that went unwatched and alarms that were snoozed. It was quick work shifts spent not looking like they were going to be naked shortly. It was afternoons listening to music in the hammock on the porch and only moving to swing and turn the tape over. It was mornings with inside jokes and conversations about nothing in particular.

All in all, Gail hadn't minded the past week of marathon sex and the occasional meal. How could she? It was marvellous. She was free of kids and she was caught with limited responsibilities and a beautiful, smart woman wanted to be naked and put her tongue on her naughty bits. Mostly, it was wondrous because it was easy and it came natural and Gail felt very much like who she was supposed to be and where she belonged. Not specifically because of Holly, but simply because everything felt as if it was unfolding in the proper way, as if she could manage, as if life was new and she was not stuck in this disastrous depression of losing her brother. Out of that wreckage of losing not just her lifeline, her person, her soulmate, her self, Gail was able to find this community, and this job, and these people, and these friends, and these kids, and this girl.

Things were not the same. Things were no where close to where she wanted them, and if she could give up her own life for her brother's, she would make that deal a thousand times. A million. _Every_ time. Just as he had done for her. But Gail felt a bit of life, much like she imagined it must have felt to be burned all over and still feel the sunlight on her scars.

"Hi, honey," her mother's voice woke her from the working stupor of cleaning Max's room. It was alarming how mechanical her actions could become when she went into this mode, but gail rode it out as best she could.

"Hey, Mom," Gail sighed, straightening up the sheets that were piled atop the mattress.

"How are you?"

"You know, just getting ready for them. You haven't gotten them too much have you?"

"Some school supplies and clothes and a few toys and some books, and a few-"

"Mom! I told you to take it easy," Gail shook her head, stuffing a pillow into a pillow case.

"Yeah, well I won't see them until Christmas, and I miss them. I miss you and my babies and Steve."

Gail stalled at hearing his name. She hadn't heard it aloud in a long time. When she said it, it felt different in her mouth, but talking to someone who knew him, who understood, it was too much. Much too much. Much too hard and she felt all of the progress she thought she was making escape like a balloon being flung across a room and landing with a dull thud. Elaine felt it too. She swallowed as best she could.

"We're going to stop and get breakfast at that place we used to take you two when you were kids, just outside of town."

"The Cow and the Moon Diner," Gail offered, sitting down on the bed.

"Yes, I think that is the one. But we should be up there around four, if all goes well."

"Okay, that sounds good. Try to have an early lunch. I'll go to the store and get something for dinner. Maybe we can grill out back."

"That sounds good," Elaine agreed hastily, suddenly unable to speak to her daughter, despite her desire to say many things. There would be time, she supposed. "Charlotte kept talking about her friend Hank. I think she misses him. I figured you would know what that meant." A chuckle rumbled through Gail's chest and she shook her head.

"Yeah, I got it. I think a nice family-only dinner would be nice first."

"I agree," the mother smiled to herself, unaccustomed to her daughter's voice saying things like that. "I am excited to see you."

"I kind of miss you, too, Mom," Gail confessed. It was somehow easier now. Old grudges were still grudges, they just mattered less. Gail was certain that when Elaine Peck actually showed up in her house and started to analyze everything, then she would be losing her mind. But she couldn't lie now. She missed her mother. She missed her family. She needed assurance and she damn well needed an adult to make sure she was doing okay. It had hurt Gail when her mother wanted to fight for the kids, to raise them herself because obviously Steve's will had to be incorrect. But One morning she just went to Gail's apartment and told her that it was right for Gail to have them, to raise them as Steve wanted. He chose her and the mother had to honour that. When that happened, Gail tried to get rid of grudges.

"Okay, well, I should go. Max is pushing me out the door. It's ice cream night."

"Smith's over on the pier?" Gail asked with a slight smile.

"Of course," her mother answered indignantly. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"I know you hate doing it, but make sure you get Arnold something. The therapist said to let Charlie take care of-"

"I know, Gail," the mom herself interrupted. "Don't worry."

"That's all I've done since I left," the daughter confessed.

"I'm sure you had some fun, too." Gail smiled to herself. She felt her cheeks burn. "I'll let you go. I love you, honey."

"Love you, too, Mom."

Gail waited a moment and so did her mother before hanging up on the other.

* * *

There came a moment around ten when Gail realized that she had done everything she could in the house. It was immaculate, though she was certain her mother would find some fault somewhere that she hadn't thought of yet. But her list of chores was suddenly at zero, and all that she was left with was a glass of tap water at the kitchen sink.

She was finally still and finally aware that she had nothing left to keep her busy. Beds were made with fresh sheets. Laundry was completed and folded and even put in its proper place. The dishes were washed. The fridge was cleaned and emptied and re-filled. The carpets were vacuumed. The windows washed. The bathrooms spotless. The counters pristine. Toys were put in their proper places and shelves were dusted and Gail stood there, looking out the window at the driveway, slowly sipping from her glass of water, suddenly very, very still.

In the darkness of the window, Gail couldn't see anything outside of the light from the porch and the window. The darkness swallowed it all up until she felt isolated and alone and that was oppressive enough for her.

In just a day, she would have two kids back in her life and she would be responsible for them. Eight months ago she buried her brother. Time was a fickle son of a bitch, Gail decided, dumping her glass into the sink and setting it on the counter, determined to have something out of place in the perfection of her home now.

She'd fallen into the role of guardian, and she knew what it meant, but she also didn't know how to do it and how not to do it at the same time. Her life had been hijacked and for just a moment, for just tonight, it bothered her.

While all of this flooded her head in the stillness, splashing through her ears like a broken dam, Gail grew more and more angry that Holly had actually listened and given her space and didn't push to be there. It bothered her to follow her own rules. It bothered her that starting tomorrow she wasn't going to get naked days whenever she wanted them. It bothered her that she had somehow gotten into a relationship and couldn't get out, but she could if she wanted and now she wanted to because it was all too much for her to try to think of and the worst of it all was that Holly was being respectful and letting her be busy and letting her be flustered and letting her be afraid and she wanted to blame someone and she needed to get rid of something and what she needed to get rid of was herself.

And fuck. As all of that swirled around and crescendoed through her brain and through the little nooks and crannies of her fissures and through her nerves and through her muscles she felt herself get light headed and bitter. And it all happened so quickly it nearly knocked her over.

She wasn't sure how, but Gail grabbed her keys and let the screen door slam behind her without a worry as she got into her car and headed toward Holly's. She had to tell her that it didn't make sense and she couldn't do it and the kids were coming and she was afraid and her mother would look at her like she killed her son and Gail felt like she had killed her brother and Holly sometimes looked at her like she was the best person in the world and it was too much to handle and she didn't like it or want it. In five minutes she had decided it. All day she had thought it, smothered it in her cerebrum, kept it locked up in the bottom of her atrium. But now there was no junk covering it, the cobwebs had been cleaned, and they doors and floodgates and hatches were opened and her mind fled.

By the time Gail reached Holly's drive way she was steel and strong and she was okay with things going back to how they had been before that stupid rain, before that stupid storm, before the ark and the flood and it all.

But Hank met her when she parked under the old tree. And he licked her face when he jumped up towards her shoulders and she bent down to him. Deep down she felt a bit more at ease with the stupid dog.

Normally when she visited, Holly heard Hank bark and she appeared on the top of the porch steps, smiling through her ears. But not tonight. The porch stayed dark, no light flicked on to see what the commotion was about, no Holly appearing with a dishtowel over her shoulder, or a book tucked in her hands, folding the page to remember her place, no Holly pushing her glasses up on her head and smiling. No none of it. Instead the house was nearly dark and Gail heard a ruckus around the back akin to something of a rattling of changes and the pulsing of music, a loud, echoing kind of banging that nearly deafened her from that distance.

"Come on, then," Gail sighed, rubbing the dog's floppy ear. She followed the noise around the house. She wasn't terribly familiar with Holly's property having spent most of their time at Gail's. She actually hadn't seen the back yard. She actually hadn't seen anything but the living room and kitchen. It felt almost terrible to not know things about her now.

The door to the garage was open, and the light spilled out into the world with a rumble of music that Gail couldn't understand, but she approached anyway despite the noises coming from it. Hank hung back and Gail watched him climb onto his spot on the back porch, paws hanging over the edge of the step. She took a deep breath.

Holly continued to punch the ratty old bag, oblivious to the visitor. The chain that held it to the ceiling rattled and moved with each punch, but she barely noticed. The music filled her head with noise even though she didn't hear it anymore. All she heard was her breathing. That was it. Her breathing and the endless loop of thoughts that chased her around a mental track. So she punched a bit harder. She punched until she couldn't breathe and she punched until her shoulder's hurt. And she kept going and wouldn't stop.

Gail watched her work the bag from the door, leaning against a shelf that held an old boombox. Holly's shoulders flexed and shuddered. Her head shook when she seemed to get stuck on a thought. Her old work shirt with _EMT_ in faded white letters grew damp in the summer evening. But Gail just let her go. She understood, on some level. She'd been that angry once. She been so angry she broke her hand when Steve died. She broke it a few times after too.

Eventually Holly flourished, she went harder and faster and then she grew weak and leaned against the bag until it was holding her up, until she rested her head against it and she shook it and the wet tendrils of her hair stuck to the back of her neck. Her hands, taped and gloved, hugged at the taped and worn bag.

"Hey," Gail tried, turning down the volume after a moment of letting Holly calm down.

"Fuck's sake," Holly jumped and swallowed.

"Sorry. I just... you didn't hear me."

"I thought you were busy tonight," Holly said, shaking her head, still a bit angry and confused at being surprised. Both stood still and separate while she tried to catch her breath again. "I didn't know. Did you call?"

"No, no," Gail shook her head. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's fine," Holly tried, overcome with polite relief at seeing the cop. She ran her forearm along her forehead to push away the sweat and hair that had messily accumulated there. "I just didn't think I'd see you. And I didn't... I had a call... I was going... I don't know."

Gail watched her fidget and blink and be anxiously exhausted. She wanted to see her and she rattled her own cage to come and do it and now she was here and she thought she could do it all. She wasn't sure why, but she was sure that she could try this.

"I got a little frazzled today," Gail confessed.

"You came over to break up with me?"

"Yeah."

"How's that going?"

"You're not even my girlfriend yet. I guess I should at least hold out til then."

"Once you have me you won't want to get rid of me."

"Been there, done that."

Holly cracked a smile at that and shook her head. Gail grinned back at her and both looked at the ground as their legs anxiously toed the dirt.

"And here I am," Gail sighed after a moment. "And there you are. Looking... sweaty?"

"Yeah," Holly nodded. They just stood there. Gail watched Holly sigh move to pull off her old, worn gloves before throwing them to the side.

"I used to be kind of brave. I mean, you saw me, a little. I ran into a building that was on fire just because I could. I used to be alive. But I've always been like a cat in a tree. Brave enough to get up there, stupid enough to not know what to do next. And now I have kids. And you're frankly the most beautiful and wonderful tree to be stuck in so I might get a bit freaked out in the branches, but I like being there." Gail shook her head and fiddled with her palms, nervous and silly. "I'm sorry. That doesn't make sense. I just really wanted to see you tonight."

"I had a bad call today," Holly spoke. "I'm really glad you're here." Her confession made her blush slightly. Her admission made her feel a bit weaker than she anticipated. Only her resolve to not call Gail, to not stop by, to not depend on her made Holly feel a bit better about the cop being there now.

"My mom is coming up tomorrow. Do you think you'd like to come see the kids for a bit?"

"Yeah."

"You say that now..." Gail watched Holly's smile fade and wanted to do something. "How bad?"

"Bad."

"You okay?"

"Nah."

Gail saw Holly's pained expression. She watched her shake her head.

"Oh, no, don't. I'm all gross," Holly took a step back as Gail approached. It did nothing to deter the blonde.

"I'm sorry," Gail whispered, wrapping her arms around the brunette. She felt Holly squeeze her back, felt her lungs expand and sigh and do it again as they tried to be calm. She felt good to be needed, to be more than the basket case she'd been. For now, she was Gail and she was the one at the bottom of the tree with the can of tuna fish and she was the one running into the burning building and she was the one that was going to fix things because fixing things was much easier and worthwhile than just watching herself fall apart.

"Did you eat?" Gail asked. Holly shook her head. Gail kissed her cheek, kissed her nose, kissed her eye and rested her forehead on Holly's. "You can shower and I'll make you something."

"Alright."

"It was a bad call. They sit on you. They stick with you. But I'm here. We can kind of just weather it together, if you want."

"Okay." Holly had sad eyes that refused to cry. Her muscles shook with fatigue beneath her skin and the summer pricked at the sweat that cooled there.

"We could watch a movie?"

"Yeah."

"I'm really glad I almost broke up with you tonight."

"Me too," Holly smiled. Gail reached up and kissed her. It was soft and interrupted by a small giggle. "But maybe don't make a habit of it."

"Wait til you meet my mom. You'll be begging me to reconsider."

"I'm not even your girlfriend yet. I can adjust accordingly."

* * *

Picking up the towels from the floor of the bathroom, Gail threw hung them over the tub to dry and picked up toothbrushes as they dripped by the sink. Toys were draining in the sink and she couldn't do much else but smile. With a quick flick, she turned on the nightlight and went into the hall to check on the kids.

Curly head and all, Charlie slept with that old stuffed kangaroo tucked under her arm and mouth open in exhaustion. Gail hadn't even believed how much she missed her until she was in her arms and squeezing her neck. But now she was back, in her bed, and she was somehow taller after just a week, somehow different, and Gail missed that she missed those moments. Gail turned off her light and closed the door a bit.

Max was also asleep in his bed. His auburn hair freshly cut for school, he looked more like his father now. Gail hadn't believed it and when she brushed her hands through his hair, he pushed her away and hugged her waist and said he was glad to be back.

By the time Gail made her way back down to the kitchen, she had her arms full of dirty clothes that went into the laundry room and she had a hurt foot from that toy Max left in the hallway. But she didn't care.

The dishes were drying in the sink strainer while her mother was on the porch, wooden swing creaking as it rocked. The same noise used to lull her to sleep in the summer when she was a kid. That and her mother's occasional laugh and her father's soft whistling as they danced on the porch and murmured about whatever it was that parents murmured about while their kids tried not to sleep.

"They're out," Gail said, opening the screen door and joining her mother on the porch. She took her seat on the chair and lulled her head. Lightning bugs played in the yard, following their slow, languid trajectories. The lake licked the shore just as lazily, sleepy and stretching before curling into itself and searching for dreams. "You must have tired them out."

"I think it was the other way around," Elaine smiled and flipped another page in the newspaper.

"Oh, I definitely get that," Gail nodded and turned back towards the water, shimmering with a bit of quarter moon above them.

"They couldn't stop talking about you, just so you know."

"I couldn't stop talking about them," Gail realized. "Or Steve. I think about him a lot. I talk to Holly, about him."

"You know, she was quite nice," Elaine observed, looking up from her paper absently, as if struck by the fact. "A lovely young woman. And you said she was a paramedic, right?"

"Yeah," Gail smiled to herself in the dark. "Her dad died when she was a kid. It's been kind of helpful, hearing her experience, from the kid side, you know?"

"I can't imagine," the mother shook her head. She closed the paper and let it rest on her lap. "Sometimes I forget it happened. I love those moments."

"Me too," her daughter sighed. "Just the other day I was convinced I had to call Steve about something. I wasn't sure what, but I picked up my phone and hovered over his name and I just... I couldn't believe that I wasn't used to it yet."

Both women were quiet. The swing continued its metronome-like rhythm while the crickets hummed along, glad to have some sort of conductor as opposed to their normal level of disarray. Gail ran her thumb over a scar on her knee, her thumb tracing the raised, smooth skin. She leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes for just a moment.

"I think living up here will be good for you all," Elaine finally decided, putting her paper beside her on the swing and giving up on pretending to read. Gail chuckled a bit, remembering her mother fighting the notion of moving from the city. She waited for the 'but,' for the contradiction and suggestion and chastisement. "I mean it. It's nice up here. I forgot how good, the good times we had. And it's hard, to live in the city. It is."

"You could always move up here. Get a little place across the lake."

"Oh, we're too old for that," the mother shook her head. "My son is buried in the city and I won't leave him there alone."

"But your daughter is up here."

For a moment Elaine was thoughtful and suddenly aware that her relationship with Gail had grown and flourished and stabilized so much recently that it was almost as if she was being asked to stay, to move closer, to be around more. Perhaps they had both been changed by the past year, irrevocably.

"And she is doing fine without me crowding her. The best thing I can do for you, Gail, is to let you keep doing whatever you're doing. Max is so smart, and he spoke and he was engaging. A new kid from when everything first happened. And that's not by sheer luck."

"I worry about him more than Charlie," Gail confessed.

"He's a smart kid. That's the hard part. You were like him. Knew too much, felt too much for your own good."

"Christ, I hope he doesn't turn out like me," Gail shook her head and scoffed, almost alarmed at the idea of anyone taking after herself.

"There are worse things he could become," Elaine promised. It was a compliment of sorts, and Gail knew it.

Gail heard her mother adjusting on the swing, the beats stopping as the woman stretched her legs against the porch. The noises outside intensified as the moon rose a bit higher.

"Mom, I'm kind of seeing Holly. In a like... romantic kind of way," Gail said, turning her head to look to the side of the porch. She kept it lulled against the back and watched her mother's face.

"Dating?"

"We're... I don't know. Yeah. Something."

"You don't know if you're dating this woman?"

"I do know... I'm just not sure. Listen, it's recent and complicated. But it's not actually complicated. I have rules. These two sleeping kids upstairs, they come first. Always. I promised Steve. That's all. And I like her. A lot. I think she's kind of amazing, actually. I just needed to tell you."

"I liked her," Elaine shrugged, standing and stretching slightly.

"That's it, that's all you got?" Gail sat up a bit in her chair, confused by her mother now. She expected caution and a directive telling her to never see her again. She was hoping for some words of reason or an order.

"What do you want me to say?" her mother laughed and held her hands up. "She was nice, Gail. She got on with the kids wonderfully. She's helped you a lot. She's honestly better than about ninety percent of the guys you've dated. I trust you to make good decisions."

"Wow," Gail shook her head and sighed.

"You're allowed to have a life, honey," she explained as she moved towards the door.

"Yeah, I just keep trying to talk myself out of it, and I was hoping you would be upset..."

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Elaine told her daughter.

"I really like her, Mom," Gail looked up at her figure. Elaine smiled, thoughtful and surprised at the admission.

"Good. She'll keep you on the straight and narrow."

In an unfounded gesture, Elaine ran her hand through her daughter's hair on her temple and she kissed her forehead

"I love you, sweetie. And I am very proud of you. For all of it. The kids, for our relationship, for... just for being you. I've always been proud."

"Thanks, Mom," Gail nodded and blinked quickly.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah," Gail agreed with a smile as her mom's hand fell from her. "Goodnight."

Gail listened for the screen door to close, and when it did, she heard her mother move through the house. She heard her climb the stairs and disappear upstairs. Gail found herself too overwhelmed to sleep, and so she continued to just look out at the lake.


	9. The Summer and the Fall

_I was lost in the shapes,  
in the lakes  
that your body makes_.

There was something to the first day of school. Something to the way that the world knew that it was coming and the leaves seemed to fade, seemed to alter their own very composition and hues as the wind chilled and was whipped through the streets. Summer bowed down to the opening of school doors, to the purchasing of pencils and crayons, to the final dives from the old bridge near the distillery, to the last cookouts and last puddles formed by soggy swim trunks. The heat still peaked, still heaved heavy signs as best it could in a final assertion, a final bid for a final memory. But autumn finally won, finally emerged despite the sneaky heat that came at two in the afternoon on hot asphalt stretches.

Gail loved school. She was good at it. She loved classes and problems and books and the way that it was alright to read all night as long as it was in the name of education even if she was simply reading things she would have anyway. The first day of school signalled another year of progress, another year of movement. She hadn't had a first day of school in a long while, but it was still what she remembered.

This day was different. It was not like how it was before and it felt bittersweet, or worse yet, it felt lacking, or as if she shouldn't have been there. But Gail still found herself feeling something that was not akin to the nervous, quiet excitement she remembered of the first day of school. Instead she had two helpless, perhaps even hapless, kids in the back seat who warily watched the brick edifice of the school appear.

"It's going to be so much fun, guys," Gail tried, looking at them through the rearview mirror. "I met your teachers and they are so nice. And Max, we have fall ball coming up soon. You're all signed up. And Leo is going to be in your class." Gail felt herself struggling with reasons for them to be excited. Half of her day was spent doing it to assuage her own selfish guilt. "And Charlie, Ms. Susie is so excited to see you in daycare. She's very nice. She even loves kangaroos, so she is looking forward to meeting Arnold."

The curly haired girl hugged her stuffed animal a bit tighter. Max sighed beside her. They hadn't been in school in about six months. She couldn't blame them for the apprehension. The last time they were in school they got a call to the principals office, and their dad was dead. That was a terrifying fact.

"Guys, it's been going to be okay. Have I lied to you yet? I mean, we moved here and had a great summer, right?" She waited for a response as she parked along the curb. The car stopped and both sets of yes in the back stared at the chaos of children going to classes and parents waving goodbye. "You're going to have great days. And tonight we can go get pizza to celebrate the first day." They were still unconvinced.

"Come on, kiddos," Gail sighed, unbuckling her belt, spurring them forward. She had never been a cheerleader, never had the spunk, but recently she had become one of sorts for them, attempting to make everything more exciting than it truly was in hopes that they wouldn't consider her a liar.

Other parents waved off their kids and spoke to each other in small groups, familiar with each other, laughing over PTA meetings or bake sales or whatever it was that actual parents did. Gail felt conscious of how much she picked pizza for dinner and let the kids eat marshmallows and watch movies a little too late into bed time. She felt the gaze of moms, as if they knew, as if they looked at Charlie's mismatched socks and messy hair and knew that Gail was terrible, that she would rather let Charlie dress herself than correct her or that she was bad at remembering to pick up fruit at the market. She felt her glare and tried to swallow it.

Everyone knew her life, knew the kids, even though she hadn't met many of them. News was a commodity, and one of the only ones that was free in all of its forms, true or otherwise. No matter what, Gail had been the conversation piece for many get togethers of other parents. Sometimes she heard bits and pieces in the bread aisle, or in the back of the diner. The '_Can you imagine?_'s' and the '_Didn't you hear what she had them doing last weekend? Yes! They were running through the store like animals!'_ and Gail's favourite: '_She's just so young. She has no idea... no idea at all._' _  
_

"Alright," Gail said, inhaling deeply with both kids beside her on the sidewalk. "Listen, all we need right now is to just jump right in and hope for the best. Put on our best faces, laces up our skates, tape up our knuckles, lather on the war paint, glass half full, we'll be okay mentality. Who's with me?" She had meant it sound more certain, more motivational, but she was aware of her own lack of conviction.

"I guess," Max agreed, moving as Gail ruffled his hair. Charlie just hugged her forearm and hid behind her hip. "If you stop that."

"You too?" Gail asked, looking at the little girl. She only got a nod, but it was close enough.

Like intrepid explorers in a new land for the first time, surrounded by locals and completely out of their element, they took to the path that led into the school, and straight into the lion's den.

* * *

There was something to a Monday. This Monday. This day was a good day. She had woken up with a skip in her step and a shiver in her toes from the freshly cold floors. She had woken up refreshed and oddly excited for a certain lunch and girl and just everything in her life made her hop out of bed and be happy. It wasn't a rare feeling. She was a naturally happy person, a naturally optimistic person barring the occasional day of the year that reminded her that she was allowed to be miserable. She worked hard to be that way, she struggled to become that way.

But she woke up happy because she spent the evening with Gail, and they packed lunches for the kids first day of school, and they folded laundry, and she washed dishes, and she sat on Gail's lap on the porch in the old wooden chair and she kissed her head and they had sat quietly and breathed and Gail had lazy hands on Holly's hips. It was a night that was becoming almost familiar and it made Holly happy. She couldn't place why, because nothing had changed, but she was happy.

Even her first call wasn't terrible. Not even her second. And by the time she returned to the station, Holly was still convinced there was time to slip in a little romance with her favourite cop who had also been in a great mood lately as well.

Like an elegant jungle cat she stealthily stalked her prey as it unwittingly sustained itself at the watering hole, carefully crafting a sandwich. With lithe limbs and a much too big smile, Holly slipped behind the ornery gazelle.

"Hi," she whispered, ghosting near her, not touching her, not tempting fate. "Oh man, you're really going to town on that poor bread."

"It's either that or that stupid principal at that stupid school," Gail grunted not even looking up.

"What happened?" Holly tried not to be amused as she stole some lettuce from the components on the table.

"He hit a kid. He hauled off and punched a kid after he told me that we were going to try to make things work," Gail shook her head and smashed the bread together. Holly followed her nudged chin and saw Max at the table in the other room, anxiously kicking his feet and looking all together whipped.

"Gail, take it easy."

"Three hours. That's how long he made it. And he's been so good, so helpful. I thought we were. I thought I was." Gail sighed and cut into the sandwich with all her might.

"Do you want to talk-"

"Nope," Gail shook her head and cut off the phrase.

"Can I touch your butt?" Holly asked, grinning at the angry blonde.

"Holly..."

"I know, I know," the paramedic sighed and leaned against the table. "Just go easy on him."

"Are you coming over tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

"Gail, just... go easy on him. He had a reason. He's a good kid."

"Don't look at me like that," she waved her sandwich at Holly's direction. "With your dead dad eyes and your just happy grin. It's... ugh."

"I'll see you tonight," Holly shook her head and grinned, taking the other half of the sandwich. She kissed Gail's cheek and disappeared once more.

* * *

The night had become autumn despite the daunting hunger of the day. Instead, now, the rain was a mist that clung to the air, chilled it, sifted through in an unending downpour. It did not drizzle upon the puddles, it did not dally or tarry upon its descent, but snuck through the leaves and branches and shingles and gutters, quiet as the night and quiet as the breeze that swirled around and around and atop the lake. Autumn visited at night, stayed for a few hours, rubbed a salve of aloe and promises of a perpetual winter fire in the form of shades of maroon and rust and bruised-banana-yellow in the leaves. In the morning, the sweetness, the overwhelming flavour and smell of the season would be gone, would linger atop the grass and then melt away as summer imposed itself with daring rigidity once more.

Yet at night, even the sheets were a humid kind of heavy that seemed weighted by a damp firmness in the air; the stifling kind of layer that clung and stuck and refused to let summer leave without being contained in its lest vestments and subtle inches of fabric. Like a dusky, sweet wetness that clung in dew and pulled on the tips of shutters and gutters and leaves, the sheets were composed of the very struggle between the seasons itself.

The house settled itself in the rain like a bump on a log, neither bothered nor even aware of the weather, but simply existing despite it completely. The occasional creak could be heard as it settled into the earth, as it settled into the rain, arms crossed and head hunched into its shoulders to shrink in the cold and drizzle. Half of the inhabitants of the home were asleep already, exhausted for their days, while the other half remained awake despite it, and perhaps because of the exhaustion; the tired and the annoyances of daily life making the sleepless afraid of missing the calm of the shifting and sleepy house that couldn't come in the day.

While the children slept, unaware and alone and very much safe, the rain crept in through the screen on the window that Gail left open in her room. The orange utility light on the pole by the garage glowed along the floor and through the shadows of the blinds on the wall. But the screen found itself a kaleidoscope of stuck raindrops and a filter of a tiny storm that made its way into the bed.

There were goosebumps upon Holly's back. Gail found them through the downpour, through the flurry of dew that came in through the window. Her eyes were heavy, but Gail persisted in constructing a lumbar lake that shifted and echoed with the movements of Holly's muscles. Tired and spent as well, the paramedic shifted only once to find the cop laying on her hip and absently tracing puddles on her back. So she closed her eyes and felt her fingers. That was all. The rain and the smudges of Gail's fingers slurred together so that she was unsure of if they were two distinct and separate entities.

Gail traced the goosebumps. She traced the slick, wet, frail hairs along Holly's skin. She gathered the raindrops, the filtered, tiny, discarded bits that made it through the window and upon Holly's exposed back, and Gail made herself a god, made herself a former of words and a creator of fates. She pushed dew along the ridges of her back and down the aquaduct of Holly's spine and she sighed a heavy sigh that stuck to her chest and her skin and disappeared to add to the sheets and weight of the night.

"I should go," Holly tilted her head after a few more moments. She rested her cheek on her arm and hummed. It was a happy hum, an unconscious, unfiltered hum that purred and vibrated through her body and emanated from her bones. Holly was happy and she did not want to move. She did not want to miss another moment of this, or of who she thought she could be, right there in the bed in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, you have to work in the morning," Gail remembered.

"Yeah," Holly agreed.

"Do you think I should tell the kids about you?"

Holly bit her lip and furrowed her brow, sidetracked and surprised by the question. Gail did this to her, asked her things, said things, out of order, usually, randomly, blurted what she was thinking at times while still being completely unable to say simple things that should be easy. Instead she tried to expect the unexpected and tried to learn to bit her lips and think.

"I think we've met before. Something about a tiny human and a kangaroo..."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever you want. I like them, a lot. They're quite cute."

"It's been one hell of a year," Gail realized. The pad of her finger stroked a rocky protrusion from Holly's shoulder blade. "I mean... we're doing something here, right? I mean, yeah. Anyway. If I tell them, I have to tell them something."

"You don't want us to change."

"Not really."

"Alright, good. Me too. I should go home," Holly rolled her shoulders and stretched quite long. The water dripped along her sides and she shivered at it. Gail shook her head and dug her nose into Holly's side. She grumbled and yawned and inhaled. "Don't tell them until you're ready."

"How do I tell them?" Gail lifted her head as Holly slipped from bed. She let herself collapse back down in what felt like defeat. "Everything is just going so well. Dead dad, new home, new school, new town, oh, and by the way, your aunt has a girlfriend." Gail went down the list as Holly searched for clothes on the floor. She laughed slightly as she pulled up her pants.

"I mean, to be fair, the last one is kind of the most normal thing on that list," Holly mused as she buttoned and searched for a shirt at the end of the bed. Gail pulled at the sheets and sat up as she watched the orange lines from the utility light cross Holly's back before it was hidden by shirt.

Gail ran her hand through her hair and leaned against the pillows and headboard. Her head was full of thought and now it was sleepily garbled and slightly distracted by the distinct absence of nakedness shared in her bed.

"Stay out of the office tomorrow. You're off and you have chores," Holly patted her pockets and made sure she had gotten all of her things. Gail liked her like that, absent and worrying. It came so naturally for her to say things like that, to give orders and give concern and it reminded Gail how much she needed to be told to go to sleep and eat her vegetables as well.

"I'll be working late, so maybe I'll see you on Wednesday, alright?"

"I want to tell them, Hol. I do," Gail argued her own internal fears.

"Do you want to see me on Wednesday?" Holly asked, moving towards the side of the bed. Her hair was messy and Gail was confused at how quickly she was able to function. Time is a terrible thing. Time was the most dastardly, unavoidable feature of existence in general. And while Gail considered the implications of existence and time and how neither could be around without the other. "Gail, honey," Holly leaned a bit close and kissed her cheek, pushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her head. "I have that thing in the city, remember? This weekend I'll be gone."

"Your mom's birthday, right?" Gail refocused. "Okay. I'll see you on Wednesday. Come to dinner? I'll let Max cook so it won't be burnt."

"Dinner with... all of you?" Holly furrowed and asked.

"Yeah, well."

"Okay."

"Alright."

Holly smiled for a moment before kissing Gail, before pushing her back a bit and kissing her as hard as she can.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Holly sighed.

"Yeah, alright," Gail nodded. "Get some sleep."

"You too."

With another kiss, Holly made her way to the door and left a contemplative and sleepy blonde in bed. It wasn't the first time she'd snuck out in the middle of the night. It was becoming second nature, and she wasn't sure what that said about so many things in her life. Though she was nervous about this dinner, she was oddly excited about not having to sneak out, and perhaps that would make her weekend with her mother bearable.

She nearly made it to the bottom of the stairs when she heard the creak behind her. Holly jumped slightly and turned to find a pair of ridiculously familiar blue eyes staring at her intently.

For a moment she was frozen, fully and completely. Her muscles locked and she felt her mind physically go blank. It was more than a moment, she realized. It was too long. So long, that Max rubbed his eyes and squinted at her and had enough time to cross his arms and stare at her with confusion.

"I heard a noise," he said. Holly smiled awkwardly and nodded.

"I'm sorry. I was just leaving..." she said softly. "I had to ask your aunt something. I left something. Here. I thought she might have seen it. It was a question. I had a question about work. There was a schedule things." She spoke quickly and tripped along the words in her path until she stopped. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Can you get me some water?" he asked. Holly just stared at his flaming hair, protruding and exploding in all directions with tossing and turning.

"Yeah, come on," she decided, nudging her head.

Quietly the two slipped down the stairs and crept into the kitchen. Holly moved knowledgeably through the cabinets and filled a glass for the little boy while he took a seat at the counter. She got herself a glass and stood across from him, hoping to drown herself while frantically trying to backtrack through all of this and not send Gail running for the hills. Of course she had been so close, so close to making a tiny chink in her facade, and now she was walking on stilts trying to walk along a canyon.

"I was just coming over to drop something off," Holly said after putting her glass down beside the sink. Max eyed her warily still, as if he had reason not to believe her, as if he didn't trust her.

"Is Aunt Gail mad at me still?" The way he stared at her made Holly antsy. She was just like him once, and she understood the severity that came with having a dead dad. People don't know how to talk to a kid like that. But Holly liked Max. There was something there, with him. A kid, just overwhelmed by what came next. Usually life waits a few years before it pulls the rug out from under you, but on the rare occasion that it got it done early, that kid grew up different. There was no science, no explanation, but it was there, a slight variation in the developmental cycle that changed a person before they got a chance to be something of substance in the first place. But, Holly liked Max a lot.

"I don't think she was ever mad at you," she tried. "She was just worried, and a little concerned."

"She yelled like she was mad," he nodded to himself, eyes wide with the memory.

"Yeah, she can yell, huh?" Holly smiled. "But she loves you and you have to be gentle on her. She's kind of new to this having kids thing."

"I didn't mean to get in trouble. Someone was picking on Charlie. And he wouldn't stop, so I had to make him stop."

"I never had a big brother. But if I did, I think I'd want him to have been like you. You take your job very seriously, and that's important," Holly eyed him while he forced a smile and sipped on his water, feet kicking from the chair anxiously. His furrow must have been genetic, for even though Holly had never seen more than a few pictures of his father, she had seen it repeatedly on his aunt. "Your aunt isn't mad at you, Max."

"Dad would have been mad. I'm not supposed to touch someone else. It's bad to hit." He looked guilty and Holly remembered being naked just ten minutes earlier.

"I think he would have been mad, and maybe a little proud of you for doing your brotherly duty," Holly explained with a smile. "When I was younger, my dad died, too. He was in an accident, kind of like your dad. But listen, I've figured out a secret I think I should tell you, since we both are in this little club of dad's that aren't alive anymore."

"A club?" he stared at her, trying to work it out.

"Not like a real club, but just... Let me tell you this," she licked her lips and leaned forward, bracing herself with her forearms. "It's different. People who have dad's won't understand what it's like not to have one. They can't. You either have one, or you don't. And people who still have their dads will try to understand, and they will be nice to you, and they will work so hard to make you feel better, but just know, that there are other people who have felt like you feel, and it's not a fun club, but it helps when you know other members." Holly took a breath and looked up at the little boy who was leaning on the counter and staring at her. He twitched his nose a bit and scratched his ear. She sighed and hoped she'd done something. "So go easy on your aunt, okay? She's not in the club, but she's trying."

"She is doing okay, I told her that," he shrugged and looked at Holly with complete seriousness that made Holly smile wider.

"Listen, Max. She's nervous. Her big brother, her person, he trusted her to take care of you, and she doesn't want to disappoint him. But sometimes, if you think she doesn't understand, just try to remember she's trying. Your dad gave you a job and he gave her a job. Maybe just try not to punch anyone else."

"Do you spend the night at my house?" he asked her, ignoring her request.

"No," she lied. It wasn't a complete fabrication. She hadn't stayed over night in a long time.

"Since you're in the club... do you miss your dad?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "You'll always miss him. But you kind of get used to missing him."

"Is Aunt Gail in a different club?"

"Yeah, I guess she is," Holly took his glass from him and put them both in the sink.

"Do you think Dad would want me to take care of her, too. Since she doesn't have another brother?" He hopped off of his seat and looked back at Holly expectantly, as if it was a valid question, as if it was an obvious thought.

"I think he would want you all to be happy," was all she could think of saying. "Maybe we don't tell your aunt about our secret club meeting tonight... what do you think?"

"Yeah. She would yell for me being awake. I'm sick of getting yelled at." Holly tried to conceal her chuckle at his indignant tone.

"Maybe behave yourself a bit better. Oh, don't look at me like that," she laughed and nudged him. "I heard about your frog collection in the bathtub." He grinned but tried to hide it as well. "Go on up to bed. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"Goodnight, Holly."

"Night, buddy."

For a moment Holly watched him creep up the steps of the quiet house. It was as if he floated, as if he had already mastered every creaky board and loose joint, as if he understood how to not exist at all. And with the vacuum he created now by leaving, Holly felt as if she reverted back to the kid that couldn't sleep who missed her father and didn't know anyone else in the club.

The only solace she had, as she softly closed the door behind her and made her way into the misty early morning night, was the fact that she was not a little kid anymore, and for just a little while, at least, she was still very happy. And to come from that to now was a feat.


	10. The Routine and the Normal

_This summer I went swimming, _  
_This summer I might have drowned _  
_But I held my breath and I kicked my feet _  
_And I moved my arms around, I moved my arms around. _

Gail could not be certain how long she had been staring at the blinking cursor. She only moved to run her hand over her furrowing forehead and then along her gaunt and hollowly sighing cheeks. The only thing that she was certain of, explicitly, was that being alive cost a lot of money and she was wondering how in the world breathing could incur such costs.

With a slight shake of her head and a dismissal of metaphysical consternation, she rubbed her hands over her eyes to relieve them of the heavy duty of seeing for just a moment and exhaled away the thoughts of complete anarchy and Thoreauvian ontological leanings. Unfortunately when she reopened her eyes, the laptop was still open, and the cursor was still beating its steady death march in the tiny little box.

There was nothing left for Gail to fight, nothing left for her to calculate, nothing left for her to do, except to press _submit_ and finish her monthly torture of paying bills. The last ding in her account was the worst, for some reason. Always.

Footsteps methodically echoed on the steps and then the creak of the screen door joined the waning hum of bullfrogs with sore throats and crickets with untuned legs. Lost in herself and her purpose, Charlie appeared at the back door and cupped one hand against the mesh to see inside. Gail sighed and smiled and watched the little girl creep in, knees grassed and cheek tinged with dirt.

"You look like you are in desperate need of a bath," the aunt observed. Charlie simply looked down at herself, appraising for the first time. Her coat was caught with crushed leaves and her hair was full of her hands trying to keep the curls from her eyes.

"I thought we don't have school tomorrow," she stated, worrying back at Gail.

"That's true, but you still have to bathe," the sometimes adult assured her. "Where's your brother?"

"He is playing downstairs." Gail watched Charlie leaning closer, lean against the table and look at the screen. "What are you doing?"

"I am paying bills. And soon I will be running you a bath."

"I got you these," the little girl ignored the responsibilities and dug in her pockets for tiny yellow flower heads that spilled upon the table beside the laptop, crumpled and smushed as they were.

For just a moment, Gail looked at the constellation that poured forth onto the table, the specks of dirt and leaves like galaxy dust between the bright star dandelion heads. The little girl sniffled and ran her forearm along her nose, waiting expectantly.

"Are you happy, Charlie? I mean, really happy?" Gail ventured, meeting her eyes.

"Well, yeah," she shrugged, sniffling again.

"Me too," Gail tried to convince herself. For this moment she was, and that wasn't a lie. "Sometimes I forget that I'm happy."

"Sometimes you're mad when I put Robbie Jackson's face in the hamster cage at day care," Charlie explained quite seriously, sifting through such complex things as thoughts and feelings with ease and dichotomous mastery of this or that. "Sometimes you're sad when it is dark and Dad isn't around." Gail fiddled with a flower, pressing the soft, plump flesh between her finger tips. "Sometimes you are grumpy until Holly comes over."

"I'm secretly happy all of the time though," Gail promised. "Even if I'm mad or sad or grumpy."

"Yeah, me too," the little girl agreed, taking the flower from her aunt's fingers, unfazed by the conversation, as if it were so commonplace to understand or even to be happy at all.

"We should put these in water, right?" the aunt smiled sadly and stood, passing and, just for a moment, resting her hand on her niece's hair.

Charlie gathered them in her arms and followed as Gail dug for a vase under the sink. She filled it with water and let the little girl drop her flowers into it so they floated inside of this huge glass container, just tiny little dots that Gail treated like roses.

"They're pretty," the little girl concluded as Gail situated it in the middle of the kitchen table, the predominant jug of water with floating, half dead yellow heads inside.

"Thank you, lovebug," Gail kissed her cheek and inhaled her earthy, her dirt, her sunshine in her curls, her eagerness, her smile, her words.

The night moved quickly then. Quickly into the bathtub, Gail ushered the little girl. Quickly she put away her computer and applauded herself for being an adult with a diminishing bank account. Quickly she let herself forget how horrible bills and expenses and life cost. Quickly she picked up the trail of clothes in the hall that led to a naked little girl hopping in the empty bathtub and waiting for water.

And Gail was happy. She was grateful and happy. Because Charlie didn't argue when it came to washing her hair for once. And Max didn't feel the need to be brooding and angry. And Gail could have sworn there was a smile, and she could have sworn there was a moment where she felt like she wasn't doing a terrible job. Because the calendar was updated, and she and figured out that she could make it to his game on Thursday.

Above all else there was a sense of normalcy, which Gail hadn't been able to see or understand or feel in a very long time. Her bills were paid, and her kids, _her_ kids, they were bathed, and they were in freshly washed pyjamas, and she played mix tape number forty-seven which had the really bad grunge, and they baked and there were movies and it was mundane. It was so terribly mundane, but it was wondrously mundane in the way that church is mundane, in the way that ritual and normalcy and compliance is mundane.

The house was filled with quiet, with the smell of fresh-baked brownies, with the smell of clean kids, with the smell of laundry, with the smell of warmth that comes in the form of the seasons changing. While the autumn night chilled and the trees ached in the arthritic chill that came with fall, while the wind licked and sipped at the top of the lake, the home was warm, the smell of warm, the smell of old, dug out quilts. Gail found herself on the couch between two little bodies as they laughed at the movie they picked.

And this was her friday. This would be her friday. She badly wanted to ask Steve so many things. She wanted to tell him many things, like how Max had his hair and eyes and could hurl a ball to second from the plate. She wanted to tell him that Charlie was very much the smartest person she might ever meet. Stuck between the two, she almost wanted to tell him that she was forgetting him every day, pushed along with the constantly shifting present while he was fixed, and ceased, and she couldn't do it. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Instead she tripped over and complained, once more, about Max's baseball bag in the front hallway, and she had to remind both kids to hang up their coats, and she made popcorn and she made them laugh and she danced and sang to the random tape she picked.

"There's not enough room," Max complained as Gail collapsed beside him on his bed. She closed her eyes and smiled into his pillow.

"There's enough room," she mumbled.

"Go get in Charlie's bed," Max pushed her slightly.

"Just hush and let your aunt rest."

"I'm trying to read," he insisted.

"Nerd," she shook her head and sat up a bit. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"I want to read," he huffed.

He was quiet and he was studious and he was downright fierce when it came to being left alone and answering direct questions. So Gail adjusted against the pillow and hunkered down for the long haul.

"Alright, read to me," she smiled slightly.

Max was reluctant at first, but he began to read after looking at his aunt with a sideways glance and pause. And when he started, Gail closed her eyes because he had smiled and he was different than Charlie, but she was figuring it out.

* * *

The lake was a quiet kind of sleepy, in the moonlight. Tuckered out from a long day of ebbing and flowing, it slept soundly, snoring in the breeze and licking at the rocks on the shore in a yawning and stretching kind of steady movement. Gail mimicked the body of water from her spot on the porch. She adjusted her legs and crossed them again, pulling Holly's over her lap as her hips situated themselves.

There was a pair of voices singing from the tape deck on the kitchen counter behind the open window. They were low and distant, hushed by the screen and the gentle sounds of night: the occasional squeak of the rocker they shared, the sigh of the dock, the pattering of stars behind clouds, the contented grins from Holly's lips. Gail hugged the paramedics legs slightly and sunk into the cushion a bit more, ears full of being alive in this moment.

"I have to go into the city next week," Holly reminded Gail. She was lit by the glow of her phone as she scrolled through something. Gail watched her eyebrows furrow and her chest move as she breathed.

There was a moment, Gail knew it, where she fell in love with Holly. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it wasn't even love. But there was a moment when the earth stuttered, when the time between seconds stopped, and the entire world faltered and she realized that she was into something that felt not like anything else had ever been. The leaves applauded in their own way, chittering and chattering and bumping into each other in the trees. The lake shrugged involuntarily. The world continued, looking around to see if anyone else noticed.

There were moments that defined the rest of what it means to exist. This was a moment. Gail knew it because it felt historical. It felt like a moment that had been coded into her DNA, as if her own mother had once laid like Holly, with her legs over her father's lap and they had listened to music and talked of inconsequential things, and they were very content to exist at all. And Gail felt as if an awareness came to her, that her grandparents once did the same thing, and one day Max and Charlie would do the same things, and the entirety of the world would do the same things, and just how marvellous it must be for the wholeness of humanity to have once been here and felt that.

Gail pushed herself into the cushion a bit more, becoming this moment.

"Do you ever just not want to go back home?" Gail looked at Holly until the paramedic laid her phone on her chest and looked back at her. "I mean, do you ever think you'll just be done with going back to the city, or is it something you make yourself do for some reason?"

Holly searched the blonde's face in the dark, she shoved her forearm behind her head and propped her neck up a bit. Gail wore an old baseball hat that frayed at the bill, that had faded from years of sunlight, she had it on to hide, to be hidden. Holly pulled on it to kiss her when she arrived for their Saturday date night. When the kids were already in bed, and Holly made herself at home and Gail turned off the parental switch and allowed herself to be whoever she wanted to be.

"Nah," Holly smiled. "I mean, I stop going, stop seeing my mom and then what? What else do I have?"

"An entire life that she doesn't even care to ask about," Gail supplied. Holly felt her thumb on her knee through her pants. The light from the kitchen lit only a fragment of the porch.

"Yeah," Holly sighed. "But I mean, I'm happy. I'm truly happy. Things have gotten infinitely more interesting since you moved in. My mom has to hear about you and the kids the entire time I visit whether she wants to or not."

"I just can't understand."

"You have two kids upstairs and you can't understand duty?" Holly shook her head. Gail grumbled, as she was known to do when she realized she had lost, and she leaned over, onto Holly's hip.

The tape stopped as it reached the end of its schedule. Holly felt Gail's chin in her hip, she felt her fingers on her thigh, she felt her heavy, heavy head full of thoughts.

"Sometimes I don't let myself get attached to the kids. I'm afraid someone will just show up and take them, like someone will wise up and realize I am me, and I shouldn't be responsible for two kids."

This was a confession. Gail felt it in her chest, in the release of her lungs as she said it.

"Steve picked you. That's all you need," Holly insisted. She slipped the hat from Gail's head and gently tossed it on the ground. Gail felt her back and side ache with her position, but she shoved her face into Holly's shirt and skin and she inhaled greedy and quiet and lonely.

After a quiet moment of Holly's hand in Gail's hair, she felt hot breath as the blonde mumbled into her side.

"What's that, sweetheart?" she tried not to be too amused.

"I said," Gail lifted her head and pushed aside her hair. "I said let's go to bed."

"Yeah," Holly nodded quickly.

With no more debate, she swung her legs from Gail's lap and they began the trek inside. Holly locked the latch on the screen door while Gail slipped inside after picking up her hat and throwing it on the bench. She straightened up the counter and put the radio back, but left the window open so there would be a chill in the kitchen in the morning. She loved the clod tiles and the way they made her grumble and huddle into herself. She picked up a few stray dishes from the kid's snack and placed them in the sink. Holly locked the back door. Gail put the juice back in the fridge.

"Max has a game on Thursday?" Holly asked, skimming the calendar that hung on the cabinet.

"Yeah, and Charlie is supposed to go to the doctor's on Tuesday, so I'll miss work in the morning," Gail threw just a look back at the offending whiteboard before sighing.

"I leave on Wednesday," Holly held her finger to the date. "I'll have to tell Max. Maybe we could take him to the city, see a game next month?"

"Yeah," Gail agreed, though she was, herself, unsure of how that sentence sounded.

"Or not. Or whatever," Holly shrugged.

Gail turned on the nightlight and turned off the light. She smiled and nudged her head, beckoning the good doctor with her. She turned off the lights in the living room, save for the one in the study. She locked the latch and threw the bolt and caught the chain on the door while Holly waited by the stairs until they both snuck upstairs.

Holly leaned against the door of the bedroom while Gail snuck into Max's room and removed the book from his bed and turned off his light. She watched the non-mother mother Charlie and kiss her forehead and pull up the blankets and shut her window completely and turn off the light before silently pulling the door shut once more. Though not the whole way. That was a sin.

In the dark they closed the door to the bedroom. The hallway lamp slithered beneath the crack in the floor. Gail felt still and quiet and she stubbornly pulled at the button of her pants in the dark until Holly's fingers stopped her. Until Holly tugged them open herself and stood along Gail, stood with her body near her, stood with her fingers pulling at her shirt now, stood tall and discarding it.

And they were quiet in the house though the board squeaked when Gail took a step forward and debated how to kiss Holly. And Holly held her breath and heard that branch itching the spine of the roof just above them. And Gail finally kissed her and finally pulled at her shirt and pushed at her clothes and fell upon her in bed and would not stop.

There were fingers digging into flesh and there was the rustle of the forest outside in the window, chilling the sheets they were atop. There were humid, tepid lips and shivering skin. There were nails sliding up necks and digging into hair. There was the curve of backs and the steady, constant lapping of lake lips along shores. There were small, barely there gasps, inhales, sighs, pleas. There was the crystal clear sky that peered through the night with curiosity through the blinds. There were needy, unforgiving hips and tongues and seconds and minutes.

Gail fell asleep with the sheet on her hip and Holly's fingers upon her very spine, very much dazed and enamoured.

* * *

"So what are you bringing for the class party next Friday?" Jonathan Harris' mom asked Gail in the pick-up line in front of the school. Gail fiddled with her belt and adjusted her radio.

"Class party?" Gail looked up as the words hit her. She heard the children releasing, she heard the school pouring out into the world once again.

"I usually make some gift bags, with some candies, for the kids," Mrs. Harris explained. Gail didn't mind her, when it came to other mothers. Maybe because she didn't treat the aunt like she was a complete idiot. She gave her pointers and she wasn't terribly condescending.

"Right," Gail nodded, as if she had known the whole time.

"Listen, honey, just toss a big grab bag of candy in your cart next time you go to the store, or a thing of juice boxes, you'll be fine."

It was meant to be an easy out, a confession that she'd been through that before as well, that she'd forgotten and just turned in some candy without any personal touch. But what she meant was it was okay for Gail, for the aunt of two kids who didn't know what to do, that no one expected the cop to be especially good at anything at all.

"Alright, thanks," Gail nodded. "Maybe Max will want to make something. He likes cooking. I'll ask."

"That's sweet," the mother, the actual mother, the full mother, the professional mother, nodded approvingly. Gail wanted to be annoyed, but in all honesty, tiny moments like this, tiny moments where Traci told her she handled something correctly, when her ideas were validated, they made Gail feel a little smug, a little happy, a little more capable. "You should have Max come over one of these days. Jonathan has been asking for a sleepover."

"Yeah," Gail nodded dismissively. She didn't know much, but she understood the fickle, fragile dynamics of parental relations, and she knew that referencing in any way, shape, or form, that Max couldn't stand Jonathan Harris was a faux pas equivalent to all out war. Kind of like assassinating an archduke. "I'll ask him. I know he's been so busy with baseball and he's going camping with Leo and his dad soon."

"Well, we'll make it work," the mother smiled and assured her. All Gail could do was match the look. "Hi, baby, how was school?" she greeted her child. He smiled at Gail and started talking with his mother. She gave a small wave and departed towards her own car across the street, hand on her son's back, guiding him through traffic.

For just a moment, amidst the kerfuffle of school letting out, Gail sighed and allowed herself to be very isolated, to be very individual, hidden in bright sight. She searched for her two, for a big black toque that Charlie refused to take off because it had been her dad's, and Max, with hair that seemed to want to meld right into the very hue of autumn itself.

Gail busied herself with looking and avoiding the gazes of parents who might try again to have some small talk type interaction with her. That was inexcusable. But she saw Max and Charlie at the other gate and she locked on, no longer fearing other adults.

Until she took a few steps closer.

Uneasy and tall, Max held on to the back of Charlie's backpack, not letting her forward. A woman knelt beside the fence and was smiling as she spoke. Charlie stared, a bit baffled, but not so put off as her brother. Gail chilled, her skin went raw, her veins poured open and she was flushed with toxins in the form of raised heckles and hissing whiskers. She'd never felt the capacity to kill before in her life, not even in her line of work. But here it was, right before her, within her, part of her, and it terrified her, to be so out of control of her own body.

"Auntie Gail!" Charlie cheered when she saw her. She sprinted and was scooped up with the overwhelming level of adrenaline in her muscles.

"Hi baby," Gail smiled despite her worry. "Hi, bud," she put her arm around Max's shoulder and stood between him and the woman who slowly stood and seemed to shrink at the same time. "Why don't you guys go get in the car, and I'll be right there?" she asked.

"I want to talk to-"

"Go on," Gail put Charlie on the sidewalk. "Max, take her to the car, please." Luckily, the little boy understood after quietly sizing up his aunt and the situation. He reluctantly pulled Charlie away towards the car. Gail watched them move, watched Charlie hop along with her puffed out coat and much too big hat, watched Max sneak looks back before leaning against the car as Charlie struggled to not open it.

"Gail," the woman began.

"I will..." Gail felt her eyes slit, she felt them grow crisp, grow focused, grow cutting. They flared with anger. Her thought stopped only because her words constricted her angry throat, her throbbing lungs squeaked and hissed. She held her hand up, she commanded, she held her fingers tight and her palm open and she held it so close to the woman she was afraid she'd touch her. But somehow Gail took a step closer without realizing it, wanting to keep quiet, wanting to be crystal clear. "Get out of this town. Don't you dare, Ally. Don't you dare." Gail felt the tendons snapping in her jaw as she struggled not to scream, not to act out, not to bit into this stranger's jugular with her own teeth.

"I have rights, Gail," the mother tried to stand up a bit straighter.

"You will not do this to them," Gail insisted, not backing away, but instead getting closer, eyeing more severely. "Not while I'm here. Not ever." She felt her nostril flare, she felt her knees buckle and lock. She tried to seem bigger. "Don't come back around."

The other woman was petulant and she was angry, and she tried to keep an indignant, while not afraid expression, but it failed. She grew tiny under Gail's cold, deliberate eyes. She only grew brave as Gail sized her once and turned to walk away.

"I'm their mother," she insisted. "I just found out about Ste-"

"Don't you dare say his name," Gail turned on her heal. She struggled to control herself. She wasn't sure why, but she was suddenly a lionness and her cubs were in danger. "I swear to God, Ally. Over my dead body will you ever, _ever_ know those kids."

Ally stood, Charlie's familiar hair on her head, the same indignant pout, the same annoyed eyes that Max sometimes had. She wanted to argue, but she knew it not wise for the moment.

"You can't keep me away."

"Watch me," the cop snarled before turning around and heading to the car.


	11. The Phone Call and the Favour

_By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves,_  
_In a wind that chills the skeletons of trees,_  
_And when the moon, it shines, I will leave two lines._  
_Find my love, then find me._

The sky was a fire. The sky was alive. The clouds were cotton candy, stretched and pulled from the centre and the sun was a stubborn kind of child, slowly yanking more than it should behind the mountains, into tomorrow. The air was already asleep in the streets, tucking in concrete roads and scarred and exhausted sidewalks. The ambient orange streetlights seemed to seep through the air, as if it had its own weight, as if it was filled with a stale heat that hadn't worked itself away, and as if interfered with the very way in which light moved and worked its way through the atmosphere. So full, so pregnant was the palpable atmosphere that Gail felt nearly squished, nearly bug-like beneath the enormity of space which filled up voids.

The nights were chilled, now. The trees knew it. They shivered until their bark cracked and snapped in the dark and lonesome breeze that licked at their skins as it strolled along and tripped over roots hidden by fallen and damp leaves. Gail had trouble remembering and placing this type of chill, this type of cold. This place was always warm to her, always laced with sunlight burning her skin and seeping between her muscles. And now, she was seeing it in the winter for the first time, seeing the lake grow grey, grow listless, grow complacent and weak and weary and overborne by the changing of the seasons and progressive march towards another year of death and dying.

Gail was still amazed by the way in which this place burned itself alive. How the leaves died by turning vibrant shades of deep reds and burnt oranges and happy, happy yellows, and how they then cascaded in storms, in blinding and overwhelming tempests of raining embers, dancing upon the breeze and swirling through the sky, obscuring the blue in an ongoing saturation. Death was a marvellous event upon the lake.

"It's cold here. Is it cold there?" she asked, balancing the phone on her shoulder as she dried another plate and stacked it with the rest.

"The city is only a few hours away, do you think the climates are so different?" Holly chuckled and shook her head. Gail couldn't hear that part, nor could she hear the relief in Holly's voice as she stretched on the couch in her mother's home, large and empty and half-full of childish memories and ghosts.

"They have different kinds of cold," Gail explained.

"It's cold. The lake is ready to freeze," Holly nodded, letting her feet drop and her legs cross on the armrest. "Nearly as cold as my mom's heart."

"It's her birthday. She should be a little more tolerable."

"She's not intolerable. We just... It's hard to explain. You ever love someone but have no idea what to do for them? or who to be? Like, as if you are someone they don't need or want, and they are someone you don't need or want, but you love them, so you have to keep them around for some God awful reason."

"Nope."

"Yeah, well, that's how it is, I think."

"Yeah. Maybe parents are like that. I don't know. My mom's been... around. It's been interesting."

"Tell me about the cold up there," Holly asked, tucking her hand into her pants to keep them warm. She heard the rustling of dishes being put into the cabinet. She heard the grumble of the woman on the other end as she balanced it all precariously in her hands.

"It smells," Gail decided, hanging up her towel on the edge of the sink as she finished. She contemplated her answers with Holly, she contemplated them because she was terribly afraid that she wasn't saying what she wanted, and for some reason she was in no rush to speak or to, worse yet, speak without saying what she actually meant or felt. "The leaves, they smell like the sounds they make, and there's this dirt, earthy, petrichor-ish smell. And it is so cold my nose aches. And I miss you."

"Oh," Holly swallowed, stopping her movements and smile faltering at Gail's non-sequitur.

"I mean, I just really miss you being around. It's been a week, but I didn't realize how much I liked having you around." Gail was done with her honesty now. She blurted it and she regretted it and now she was empty and tired.

"Good. That's the plan," Holly smiled and turned in towards the back of the couch, curling up in her victory. She heard Gail turn off the music that was steadily playing in the background. She wondered which tape it was. It was important, to understand.

"Charlie has been quiet the past few days. I think she's only spoken a few words. I can't seem to get her out of it," Gail confessed. Holly need only wait to get to the crux of the problems that kept the blonde awake at night. "I called Max by his name yesterday. I was... I couldn't. I don't know."

"And you are tired," Holly explained, knowing full well that the cop was getting worn down in her first hear as parent of two active kids. Routine could only take her so far. Between work and the weight of it all, it attacked her stamina.

"No, not terribly," the blonde tried to argue.

"Charlie is going to be quiet. Dr. Crosley said that you just had to respect how she was, not push," Holly reminded her. "You're tired Gail. Have your mom come up for a weekend. Or I can help, when I get back. Take the kids to a movie or something."

"You don't have to," the cop tried. She checked the lock on the back door and paused to look out at the lake, somewhere in the darkness, resting and still, quiet and tucked in soundly, shivering against the night. The desolate vastness of night made Gail uncomfortable and lost. It left her no corner to hide in, no chore left after a day of business, no anything to distract her from the unconquerable amazingness of existence.

"Gail, shut up. I love the kids. I like spending time with them. I mean... I'm your. someone. Right? I mean. I'm your girlfriend." She said it forcefully, as if she were deciding it for herself for the first time.

The lock being tossed echoed as Gail froze. She couldn't even remember how to swallow after hearing that word.

"I mean, I know you're... whatever. You're figuring things out, you're afraid of what could happen, of what this could mean for the kids, and I get that. I respect that. But you have to let me help you out. You have to let someone in to be there."

"Yeah, okay," Gail nodded to herself. Her brow furrowed, much to the opposite of the relief Holly felt on the opposite end of the phone. It wasn't concrete and it was with conviction, but it was something, and at this point anything shy of a complete denial was progress.

"I don't need titles. I just. I just need you to know my level of commitment to this, to you, to the kids." Holly sat up on the couch, suddenly earnest, and terribly afraid of ruining things with the cop.

Gail made her way up the stairs after locking up the house. She was quiet because she had to be, both because the kids were asleep and because she didn't know what to exactly say. That troubled her. She needed precision and exactitude.

Max was asleep, curled with blankets over his ears, burrowed and worried. Charlie could be found with a stuffed kangaroo and body spread wide and big, arm hanging from the side of the bed. Gail turned off the light beside her bed and pulled the door shut nearly completely behind her before turning on the hall lamp in case Charlie got up in the night.

Still quiet, she closed the door to her bedroom, the orange from the streetlight on the property making the night as burnt as the days were. Patiently Holly waited. Gail didn't think though, in all of the time that she allowed herself to think, in all of her actions. She hadn't thought about what needed to be thought about. It was a moot point now anyway.

"When are you coming back?" she asked, leaning against her door.

"I'm not sure," Holly confessed. "A few days."

"I am very fond of you being around."

"Yeah, I had hoped."

"Mostly sex."

"I figured."

"But other stuff, too."

"Pizza."

"I feel alive, when you're around."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

With a sigh, Gail sat on the edge of her bed and ran her hand along her knee. She felt the weight of the night and the light upon her shoulders and her chest struggled with her bout of honesty.

"But mostly sex," Holly helped her run away from real feelings.

"And when you listen to my tapes," Gail decided that captured it all.

"I will be back soon," Holly decided. "My mom can't have too many more meetings and things scheduled for me."

"Good. We can tell the kids what we are. To each other. What we are. Things."

"Well that should be fun."

"I like you a lot, Holly."

"I know."

With a furrow and spare sigh, Gail laid down on her bed, feet hanging listlessly from the side.

"My brother died and I moved here and I found a lot of wonderful things," Gail realized.

"Yeah. Things like that happen."

"Do you think we would have met if he hadn't? I don't want to link the two events. I need a bit of fate."

Holly was quiet and she stood, starting to mosey towards the other side of the house. She ambled through the halls, avoiding photographs of her childhood, the hieroglyphics of her entire history, right there like cave drawings.

"I think we would have. I think you would have been at some coffee shop downtown and I would have come in and been distracted by you. I think that I would have been walking Hank and you would have avoided his slobber and I would have apologized and asked you to dinner. I think that I would have been mugged and a gorgeous cop would have appeared and taken my statement and made a move. I think that you meet the people you're meant to meet because you let them in at the right moment in your life. I think I needed to meet you."

Gail closed her eyes and pictured each scenario, tried to remember who she was, what it felt like to be someone who would ask out a girl with a slobbery dog, to imagine what flirting and being alive would have felt like with Holly before her bones felt so brittle and before her heart felt so heavy all of the time. It felt similar to how she felt around Holly now. Not at this moment, but when she was around and she made a dirty joke, or when she made the kids laugh, or when she was able to detach for just one night and feel like that girl again. And Gail had to understand how right and how wonderful that was.

"Okay. Good," she decided.

"I will see you this week."

"Even better. I need a hot date to some thing Chris is having."

"Perfect."

"Can we just be quiet for a moment. I want to be quiet before I tell you goodnight."

"Yeah," Holly smiled despite Gail's inability to hear it. "Just a moment."

* * *

Gail did not particularly mind the feel of the breeze in the building when she pulled on the heavy door that led to the station. She did not mind the cool air, the clanky hissing of air conditioning pouring through the sanitized hallways, nor did she particularly mind the sanitary smell of all office buildings, the squeak of shoe soles upon the crisp floor, or the way the air seemed to not exist, so much unlike the heaviness that existed outside, where the air laid thick in the air, where the air laid fleshy and stagnant, yawning and stretching against every minute crack and crevice in the surface. The sudden absence upon entry into the office building was mildly discerning. It made her falter. It made her sober. It made her think. It took away the comfort of gravity sticking her to the world, and instead left her holding on for herself.

She was off for the day, but she had errands, and this was an errand she hadn't expected. It was killing two birds with one stone, though.

"Hi," she squeaked. Gail cringed and cleared her throat. "Hi," she tried again, leaning against the door of the small office.

"Hey!" Holly was happy. She was surprised and her smile grew big. Her smile was like a punch right through the sternum and filling it back up with warm syrup, it languidly pumped through Gail's muscles, it lingered all over. "What are you-?"

"I need a favour," She cut Holly off. This was important.

"Oh yeah? How's that, Peck?" she grinned.

The slow shuffle of the day happened just behind her in the door, the whole day moved onwards despite this conversation. Gail watched papers moving and people milling and she felt her spine grow. The sound of the day filtered through the office, through the building, the dull murmur of life that made Gail comfortable and insignificant.

The door closed behind the cop with a soft click as her fingertips braced it as she took a step forward slowly. The eye is attracted to movement. If she moved nonchalantly they wouldn't know. They couldn't. Science.

"I missed you," Gail gulped. "I mean. It's been a while. And I miss you. And. I am here to ask you something important because I have to run over to Harold's in Ridgeville to get Max's cleats because he literally broke his other ones and he has a game on Thursday."

"Yeah," she turned in her chair slightly. Gail liked her lips. She couldn't focus on anything else. Not even at a juncture like this.

The blonde stopped holding the wall up, and she stopped using the door as a crutch. She took one step and that was all that was needed. It's ridiculous how brave one step makes some, sometimes.

"Are you busy?"

Gail's hair was in my hands and she was pulling, anxious and unsure behind it all, behind the step closer. She bit my lip to keep the words in her mouth, to keep the rambling from continuing.

"Not a bit." And she knew. Cocky and stifling a grin much more effectively than Gail could.

Maybe it was the second step that made her braver. It must have been. Possibly the third. But she had no voice and she had to be closer so Holly could hear. Gail had to be closer period because those images haunted her and she had to pull them from her very muscles. She wanted to pull them from her very nerves.

Gail inhaled, greedy and anxious and steady. She watched brown eyes watch her as she straddled Holly in the chair. She took a breath and she steadied herself on her shoulders. She pressed her palms against her collarbones. She inhaled, greedy and anxious and steady. Holly's hands were on her hips, automatic and conditioned for just that response.

"I want," the cop swallowed and leaned closer. She felt her cheek near my cheek. Perilous as the journey was, Gail trailed her fingers along Holly's neck, along her bones, along her jaw. She watched her fingers move across the skin, across the freckles hidden under skin, across the contours, into the valleys, meandering through the plains. Her thumbs toyed anxiously with the process of her clavicle, where it met her breastbone, where it fused and kept her steady. She had just enough voice for this. She had saved it up all day. "I want you."

Holly's hands were tight on Gail's hips with those words words, unsure and still confused.

"I want you here," Gail clarified and kissed her neck. Soft and light. Soft and stern. Full and proud and affirming. "I want you now," she explained. Hot and humid and thick and suffocating, she felt her own breath against Holly's neck, and she felt her lungs beneath her fingertips.

Light and nonexistent, Gail was terrified and alive and felt the heavy of the world outside attach her to this moment. It was impossible to breathe. She kissed her neck, and she ran my hand along her neck and into her hair, dragging her nails, light and like the air in the building. She only knew that she wanted to attach Holly to this now. Holly's palms ran along my thighs. Her touch was like fire, like ice, like lightning, like feathers, like breeze. Gail felt her hips mov as she slowly kissed her neck again. She ran her lips along the warm skin, gentle and not forceful, there was an agonizing slowness and deliberateness in the motions.

"I dream of your office," the cop told her, pulling away slowly. She unbuttoned one button from her shirt and touched all that she could, trailing fingertips along her skin, deathly afraid of her eyes, petrified that she would turn to stone if she looked, that she would undo everything completely, my nerve thrown aside and doubt emerging. But Gail looked anyway. She looked because she liked her eyes. She looked because She very much wanted to see them. She looked because they made her feel relieved.

"Dream?" Holly asked, alive and precarious and wary of her deer-like skittering. Gail nodded.

"I want to ruin work for you completely," she informed her. It was honest. Gail wanted her to think of things that she dreamed of. She wanted to leave bits of herself on every surface.

And she was quiet and so Gail kissed her. She kissed her slow and soft as kisses are meant to start, she kissed her and debated with her and swallowed all of her inadequate words and she kissed her until the conversation evolved, until she felt her tongue and her teeth and sighed as her hips moved towards her again.

"How do you want me?" Gail asked, breathless and distracted and eager and wanting. Holly's hands were on her skin. Already beneath her shirt somehow. Holly's lips were puffy and bitten. Gail wanted to devour them.

There is a look. It is a look that shatters mountains, that makes their knees so weak they crumble after millennia of existing at all. Imagine Gail.

There was no answer. Not in words. There was her spine straightening. There was her arms around Gail's back. There was the need for her lips to have her lips. There were her lips upon the blonde's neck and her lips upon her skin and there was a sinful trail of kisses along her collar that felt like Sherman's March to the Sea must have felt to the cities in its path.

Gail felt her tug upon shirt buttons, felt her fail and grow frustrated, felt her pulling at clothes, and felt the chill of the breeze of the building without gravity until her mouth, hot and heavy anchored the cop again, until she felt a groan in her throat at her tongue upon her nipple. Gail swallowed it, as best she could. She slipped her hand between them. She slipped my hands low and earned her own groan and frenzied lips and a retaliatory bite.

"Baby," she sighed, playing with the nape of her neck, trying not to claw into her clothes. Unsure if it was needy or questioning or a statement, but it was something.

And Holly looked at Gail like she imagined stars look at loved ones on the other side of insurmountable distances, vast and unconquerable. And she looked at her with mischief and need and want and Gail wanted to be ruined by it all.

"I have dreams, too," she said. She pushed upon the girl on top of her's chest lightly. She moved to work on her pants. She controlled Gail's muscles. Like a puppet, twisted by words, she didn't even know how undone and restrung the cop was.

"You have to be quiet," she reminded. Gail nodded, though she both looked unconvinced at the answer while at the same time determined to make the cop fail.

She saw her. Her eyes filled up Gail's eyes, until she felt her fingers. And then the world went black because she couldn't see straight and shut her eyes tightly.

There was an ungodly noise, a moan, a low and needy moan. Her fingers disappeared and it turned into a whine.

"Be a good girl," she said, cocky and grinning and Gail wanted to argue, but instead swallowed and nodded. Holly bit at Gail's lip and held her eyes as her fingers slipped again, as her thumb slid.

Gail's hips moved.

Because Holly made them. Because she willed it. Because she wanted them to and they knew. Like the tide, like the moon silently pulling upon the very oceans.

She kissed Gail. She swallowed her moans. She ate her up.

Gail bit her shoulder, mouth wide and wanting to scream when her thumb pushed. She dug her nails into Holly's available skin, into her clothes, into her hair. She felt her lips, light and the opposite of her fingers curling, of her thumb toying. She was everywhere and Gail was lost.

"I'm." Gail swallowed and whispered though it felt like a shout. "Oh God," she growled and twisted and turned because of her. "Can I…?" she moaned too loudly.

Holly's hand covered her mouth. Her fingers moved harder, moved quicker.

"Please," she told her. Gail was grateful for her hand. She swallowed as much as she could.

It was blinding. It was deafening. It shuddered and shook her body. Gail clenched and gasped and begged for more without knowing what that could even mean. She collapsed against Holly's proud shoulders and chest and tried not to suffocate.

Gail was grateful for her fingers, was grateful for their stillness now as she twitched atop her. She shuddered and jolted from simply being surrounded from her electricity. Gail felt Holly kiss her head, kiss her neck, kiss her ear, kiss her lips. Her body constricted when she removed her fingers. Incomplete and empty she needed her again, and that was alarming.

"Thanks," Gail sighed and grinned and burrowed into her collarbone. "Yeah. That."

"Anytime," the paramedic grinned and tried to not be so proud. She watched the cop stand again, though on wobbly legs. That did nothing to help her cockiness. "So the kids get out of school at three, right?"

"Yeah," the cop nodded and buttoned her shirt again. Holly stared at her unbuttoned pants until she decided to help, tugged upon them slightly and buttoned them herself. "Thanks."

"See you later then."

"Yeah."

Gail leaned forward, and still slightly dazed, kissed Holly's cheek.

"I'm glad you're home."

"Me too."

* * *

Three minutes. That's how late Holly was as she turned the corner too quickly in front of the school. Even after such a short amount of time, she recognized that the street was less busy than if she had arrived three minutes earlier. Cars were pulling out, the yard thinned, parents walked down the sidewalk with kids in tow, and Holly was swearing up and down as she threw her truck in park.

Still oddly distracted by the events of earlier, Holly felt as if the past few hours were a dream, as if she was stuck in that moment with Gail for a moment. And now she was slipping under the weight of what it all meant. Because it wasn't a simple screw in the office. The cop had spoken volumes. To pick up the kids was... it was it. And Holly was screwing it up already.

"Hey! Charlie! Max!" Holly called, waving her hand up tall over her head from across the playground as she approached.

The familiar, old faded baseball cap turned and waved eagerly on the curly-headed little girl. Sleeves of her coat were unrolled and falling over her hands that held on to some construction paper masterpiece.

"Holly!" Charlie smiled and skipped a few steps towards her as she approached. "Aunt Gail said we could see you tonight!"

"I thought I'd pick you guys up. I'm sorry I'm late." In a few long strides, Holly pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and met the little girl. "Max, get over here. Come one."

Warily Holly eyed the woman on the other side of the fence talking to Max as he gave her a shrug and wave and slouched his way towards her.

"Who's that?" she asked, kneeling down near Charlie to tie her laces that'd come undone.

"That's my m-o-m," he spelled, looking warily at Charlie who tugged upon her father's baseball hat that Holly had heard about; about Gail's inability to get her to take it off recently.

"Your... wait" Holly paused and looked at him.

"Yeah," he shrugged and kicked the dirt, pulling upon his backpack straps in his arms. "Sometimes we see her."

"Oh." Holly looked back towards the fence. She had heard of this woman, in theory. She had heard of her in passing. "You okay, bud?" She earned a shrug. It turned around in her head as she finished up the busy work of tying shoes and stood, looking over at the fence. The mother looked awkwardly around and tried to turn to leave. Holly felt her hand go around Charlie's shoulder, guiding her towards the truck.

"Does your aunt know, Max?"

"Kind of. I heard her talking to Grandma," he explained as he was guided back towards the truck as well.

"Oh Grandma!" Charlie chattered.

"She said they had to do something. I think Grandma said bad words."

"You shouldn't be listening to private conversations," Holly tried to chide him. She kept looking over her shoulder at the empty spot now.

"But she was yelling."

"Yeah, well. Let's get home."

Holly helped Charlie hop into the truck before Max followed. She tossed one more look over her shoulder at the far side of the playground before shutting the door.


End file.
